


Order of the Alchemist

by WeeabooandProud (SilvaeSong)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of the Promised Day, Aged-Up Character(s), Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-06-21 00:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15546090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilvaeSong/pseuds/WeeabooandProud
Summary: Everyone wants to know what happens to the Hero of the People after the revolution. What if he met the Savior of the Wizarding World?





	1. That Time I Proposed With Alchemy and other events

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, no clue what this is. I had an idea and 15,000 words later thought, "Hey, I should post this!" and here we are.
> 
> If you have questions, reviews keep me alive, so fire away.
> 
> Also, for clarification: the underlined words are Amestrian unless stated otherwise. I'm not going to bother with that when they are in Amestris though.

“It’s my portal of truth, so I get to decide how it’s used.”

Ed wasn’t expecting Truth to just freeze like that, his expression blank. It was unnerving to see Truth without his megalomaniac grin.

“Just take my gate already. I know it will cover Al’s debt. It’s eternal truth, or the All if you will. That’s more than plenty to cover a human being. I want to get Al home. I can live without alchemy. It’s not like I’m addicted to it or anything.”

“You’re too late.”

Ed’s eyes widened, his hands trembling.

“Wh-what do you mean ‘too late’?”

Ed cursed the tremor in his voice.

“I mean, that was the right answer up until a few minutes ago.”

“But-!” Ed started frantically.

“HOWEVER, that does not mean your problem is not solved.”

Ed was shaking at this point, as was Al, just out of sight behind Truth. The older Elric froze, not even twitching, when he saw the peaceful, genuine smile on Truth’s face.

“What solved your problem, young Hohenheim, is you.”

“No, Ed! Don’t do it!” Al cried, his voice hoarse from disuse.

Ed hung his head, his fringe shielding his eyes from his brother.

“…okay…”

“NO! BROTHER!”

Ed flinched, while Truth started laughing, that same maniacal laugh that had haunted them both for the past six years.

“Relax, alchemist. I don’t mean I’m going to take your brother.”

Both boys paused at that, tension not yet leaving, but panic kept at bay by those words, hope stuttering back alive after its sudden demise moments before.

“Then what _do_ you mean?” Edward finally asked.

“Simple,” Truth stated, “You have done something that no one else has done before. This would be the fourth time you have opened the gate, of your own volition, when no one else has opened it more than twice, and have given the proper answer after so long, as well as fulfilling your quest.”

“What quest? Then, what is the toll to get Al back?”

Truth giggled, a delighted little noise, “You’ve already paid it.”

Ed frantically scanned himself to see what was missing, but to his surprise, he was intact, both legs and all.

“Wh-what?” he shakily managed to ask.

Truth cackled again, “For a genius, you’re rather slow on the uptake, aren’t you? You learned your lesson, alchemist! You did the impossible! You stopped Father! You did what I could not, beating him on the ground with your bare fists! You should get a little reward at least.”  Truth’s smile lost its manic edge as his cackling ceased, “Besides, I still need you on the ground. Someone else is begging to knock on my door, and I need you down there to stop it yet _again_.”  Ed could practically see the nonexistent eyes roll.

Both doors opened, as black, fingered tendrils grabbed both boys, pulling them through their own gates.

“Wait!” Ed cried, “What do you mean you need me? What am I supposed to stop? Is Father coming back?! Wait!”

**BANG!**

Truth sat, staring at the closed gate in front of him.

“You will find out in time, Mr. Alchemist. I wish you luck.”

 

* * *

 

_“Hey, Winry?”_

He can’t believe he did that!

_“Yeah, ED?”_

He was NOT planning on doing that!

_“E-EQUIVALENT EXCHANGE!”_

Why did he go and open his big, dumb mouth?

_“YOU GIVE ME HALF OF YOUR LIFE, AND I’LL GIVE YOU HALF OF MINE!”_

But then, she didn’t say _no…_

 _“How ‘bout I just give you my_ whole _life?”_

Edward grinned as he remembered her flustered and frantic calculations before settling on 85%. He could live with that. 85% was a good number, after all. He chuckled to himself before freezing.

But what did that mean?

Does he now give 85% of his life to her? What even is 85%? Should he not have left? Should he have taken her with him? Are they… are they engaged now?

“GAAAHH!!” he shrieked, clutching both sides of his head.

_‘This is too nerve wracking!’_

“Mommy, is he okay?” a little girl asked her mother across the aisle from the researcher.

The girl reminded him of Elicia, and a pang of regret stung him enough to calm him down a bit. That was one mistake he could never fix, but he was glad the little girl had so many people in her life to support her.

“I’m okay, kid. I’m just a little worried is all,” he tried explaining, shaking away his depressing thoughts.

“Worried about what?” the girl asked, cocking her head to the side like an overgrown puppy.

Ed chuckled nervously, “Well, I kinda just proposed to this girl right before the train left?”

His answer sounded more like a question than a statement, but Ed now had the attention of many people on the train.

“Oh! How exciting!”  “Congratulations!”  “What did she say?”

Ed nervously told the story to the half of the car that was leaning forward expectantly. When he finished, most of them were shaking their heads in sympathy for this girl.

“You’ll have to get her a ring and propose again properly,” someone commented.

Ed nodded dumbly, his mind set to planning. At least he knew he had time. He wouldn’t be seeing her for another year anyway.

 

* * *

 

_Ed carefully set the watch on General Mustang’s desk. His new, massive office going quiet, the whole team waiting to see what would happen._

_”Fullmetal- “_

_“I’m not Fullmetal anymore, Colonel, er, General. I’m just Ed,” he spoke softly, his head bowed, a slight smile on his face._

_Everyone waited for Ed to comment on Havoc’s legs, or Mustang’s one restored eye, but he never did. Clearly, he understood._

_“Edward, I would like for you to reconsider leaving the military.”_

_Ed glanced up at his commanding officer of five years._

_“I have a proposition for you,” Mustang continued before Ed could refuse him, “Stay under me and help me rebuild the relationships we have lost with our neighbors.”_

_Ed shook his head, “Sorry, Col-, er, General. Al and I are done. We’re going to travel, research, learn. I don’t want to be a dog anymore. I accomplished my mission,” Ed’s cocky grin made its first appearance in a while, “Besides, there are better things to do with my time than diplomacy.”_

_Mustang’s signature smirk matched Ed’s, their comfortable banter setting both at ease again, “You didn’t let me finish. I want you_ and _your brother. You two would be great help in restoring the Ishvalan nation. There are a lot of cities to rebuild, and no one has more experience restoring destroyed city blocks than you two.”_

_Everyone chuckled at Ed’s half-hearted grumbling._

_“I’ll talk to Al.”_

_Mustang smiled, confident that the younger Elric would be more than willing to help out._

* * *

 

It took more than two years to restore all the devastated cities, but they managed it, the relations between the two peoples strengthened considerably. In the cleanup, the brothers even found more Xerxes ruins, as well as a few artifacts and history. Being the last Xerxians, the finds all belonged to the brothers, and they donated everything but a few ancient texts to the Central Museum, starting a culture exhibit. From what Ed had heard, it had grown to include Ishvalan culture as well as some Xingese and Drachman artifacts.

 

* * *

 

_“We cleaned up your mess, General Bastard. What excuse do you have for keeping us this time?” Ed asked, Alphonse cringing next to him, shooting the General an apologetic look for his brother’s typical attitude._

_Roy wasn’t sure, but it seemed that Alphonse had always been a fairly expressive boy, just like his brother, but no one had been able to see it through the armor._

_“I understand you both have plans to travel to other countries for research. Would you consider being an ambassador of sorts? Mostly in name only, but it would strengthen crumbling bonds between countries to have this kind of political move, and you and Al would still have military protection and funds for your travels.”_

_Ed stared, then opened his mouth to answer when he was cut off._

_“This is a request I am making of both you and your brother,” Roy turned to Al, “If you need time to think it over, do so. Of course, we will probably change your title. State Alchemist doesn’t really fit you guys anymore, does it?” Roy asked with a twinkle in his eye._

_The Fullmetal Alchemist glanced askance at his brother, the Lifearmor Alchemist, “And you just got your fancy title and everything.”_

_Al chuckled, “It does fit me rather well, doesn’t it? It will fit better once I master medical Alkahestry, though.”_

_Mustang’s smirk did not go unnoticed, “You will retain those titles, but the F_ _ührer and I have discussed the possibility of changing your status from ‘State Alchemist’ to ‘State Alchemist Researcher and Ambassador.’  It’s a bit of a mouthful, but this will allow you to continue your research abroad,” Roy’s smirk grew, if that were possible, “Naturally, this comes with a promotion and subsequent raise.”_

_It took every ounce of willpower the man possessed not to laugh at the way Ed perked up at that._

_The young man considered the offer, a silent conversation passing between the two brothers._

_“You’ve got yourself a deal, future f_ _ührer.”_

 

* * *

 

A little less than a year later, and Edward was off to the west, Fullmetal State Alchemist Researcher and Ambassador, or SARA for short. Ed swore he would have pounded Roy’s face into the pavement for that nickname, if he wasn’t afraid of damaging his only working eye. After using part of the stone to fix Havoc’s legs, there was only enough power in the stone to save one of Roy’s eyes, so the man opted for a simple eyepatch. Ed had no proof, but he was pretty sure there was something off about Roy’s blind eye. He wasn’t convinced the eye was totally blind. It was a little too similar to the Ultimate Eye, and creeped the boy out a little.

Still, he liked this new job. Amestris and its neighboring countries were very isolationist, so not much travel happened between the continent of Xeno and the rest of the world.

In fact, no travel had happened at all.

Edward would be the first Xenoean to leave the continent in about five hundred years, if the history books were to be believed.

He hoped to be able to learn the language quickly. He had always had a knack for languages, along with everything else, so he had about thirteen he could translate written, including the language of his destination as he had gotten his hands on a few snippets of it, although he could only speak four languages fluently: Amestrian, Xerxian, Ishvalan, Xingese.

_‘Surely, it can’t be that hard. I just hope their food isn’t weird.’_

As he settled back down in his train seat, pulling out a book on his destination to occupy himself, he fervently hoped they didn’t have milk in his new home.


	2. That Time a Homeless Man Beat Up My Cousin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have it written, so I figured I'd go ahead and post another chapter because I have no self-control.
> 
> But then, if I had self-control, I would have done homework instead of writing.
> 
> Oh well.

It was early evening when Edward docked his boat, transmuting it back to the driftwood it had been on the coast of Drachma when he left. Cautiously, he glanced around at the city on the river, impressed by the architecture.

“If they can make buildings like this, their alchemy must be impressive.”

He turned to head up the path, heading to the impressive building nearest him, watching the locals wander around the shops, trying to listen in and decipher the language. He was making decent headway in that regard when he spotted a bookshop. He had seen the paper currency used by the locals, so he discretely transmuted a handful of his own cenz into what he guessed he would need for a few books before entering the store. He picked a few that he thought would help him, before paying without a word and leaving, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible, hoping no one noticed the fact he clearly didn’t belong. He figured he would have to change his outfit if he didn’t want to attract too much attention, as his style stuck out like a sore thumb. Spotting a nice, crowded outdoor café, he found a table where he could see and hear the locals around him, as he dove into the books he purchased.

He had enough of an understanding of the written language from his studying while still in Amestris, but it seemed that the language had changed greatly. He had purchased a dictionary and thesaurus, as well as a little tourist book entitled _Speak Like a Native,_ as well as a few books on history and politics. He was easily lost in the pages.

“Sir? We’re closing.”

Ed pulled himself out of the S section of the thesaurus. _‘Why do they need so many ways to say small?’_ He glanced up at the woman who clearly just wanted to go home. 

“Zorry, I vill be leavink now.”

The waitress startled at the thick accent before collecting herself, “Not a problem, love.”

Ed’s eyebrow rose at that. ‘ _Love? Is that a local thing or is she making fun of me?’_

“Joo vould not happen to know uv a plaze to ztay for ze night?”

The woman smiled, her earlier attitude melting as she studied the young man. His travel-weary appearance and heavy accent made it painfully obvious he was very far from home. 

“O’ course I can show ya, love. Now whatcha wanna do is take the Pickadilly line to . . .“  She cut herself off at his stumped look. 

“Vhat iz a dilly and vhy iz it picked?”

She frowned. This would be harder than she thought. 

 

* * *

 

The Fullmetal alchemist woke with a start. The kind woman had helped him to a bus stop that would take him where he needed to go, so he had thanked her, leaving a large tip, and hopped on the bus. Unfortunately, it seemed he had fallen asleep, thanks to the long journey and lack of sleep, and now he had missed his stop, as well as many others. According to the scrolling letters, he had missed a total of eleven stops. He quickly hopped off the bus before it could carry him further away, glancing around to see where he had ended up. A sign nearby read “Surrey” so he assumed that was where he was. He had seen and heard the name “London” earlier that evening, so he knew he had gone a lot further than he had originally planned. He glanced at the route schedule posted at the bus stop. 

_‘Darn. Should have stayed on that bus.’_

Resigned to his fate, he chose a random direction and started walking. He could appreciate the stillness out here. Very different from the bustle of London and Central. It was quieter, not quite as quiet as Risembool, but close.

After a couple hours of wandering, he found a nice park, with very inviting benches. Heaving a bone-weary sigh, he laid down on a bench, using the suitcase he had lugged around with him all day, now heavier with books, as a pillow. 

 

* * *

 

The next morning found Edward awake with the sun, blinking back the sleepiness that was a result of too few hours of sleep. With a jaw-breaking yawn, he stretched, sitting up and looking around, now that he had daylight to see his surroundings.

He appeared to be in the suburbs somewhere, in a park in the middle of a quaint neighborhood.

Before he set off to explore too far, he used his alchemy to make a safe place to hide his luggage in an old alleyway. Taking the alleyway to the end, he found himself in a town square of sorts. Well, it had a little cafe, a small store, and an accountant office. He wandered around the business section of the little town, stopping into the little cafe for breakfast. As he walked, he counted the counterfeit money he had left. The monetary system here was very different from back home, so he had overestimated how much he would need. He probably had a few too many zeros in his hand, but without knowing the exchange rate, he had to guess.

Glancing up as he tucked away his wallet, he saw in front of him, a glorious building, one that had his blood pumping in excitement at the sight: a library.

It wasn’t as grand as the newly rebuilt Central Library, but it was a library, and that was enough for Ed.

The lone Amestrian spent the next several days in a set routine: wake from his bench, stop by his spot to leave his luggage in the alleyway, head to the café for breakfast, then get lost in the library’s pages. After about a week, he had read through the entirety of the nonfiction section of the library, as well as parts of the fiction section. After watching this, one of the librarians showed him how to use the library’s computers, and the young man then spent his time searching the internet.

He wanted to learn all about this world.

 

* * *

 

Harry glanced at the man walking into the park from his vantage point on the swings. The blonde with the suitcase didn’t seem to be paying attention to him, but after the Triwizard Tournament, he had been on guard, waiting for an attack. Sending a single crony, and a young one, from the looks of him, to take Harry out didn’t seem like Voldemort’s style, but he could never be sure.

All of Harry’s worrying seemed to be for naught, however, when the stranger plopped down on a park bench, curling up under his long, red coat and resting his head on the brown, leather suitcase he carried.

Harry chuckled at the loud snores coming from the vagabond. Clearly, the man wasn’t a threat, or he would have done something by now.

Before Harry could return to his interrupted musings, he heard the sound of voices. Looking up, he recognized Dudley’s gang, dumb brutes, the lot of them. He was hoping they would turn his way. He was anxious to vent some of his frustrations on the boys that had once made his life hell. He had his wand, and he wasn’t afraid of them anymore.

Unfortunately for both Harry and the supposed homeless blonde, the boys saw the sleeping boy but never spotted Harry.

Malcolm was the first to notice him, not that the bright red coat was hard to miss.

“Lookit, Big D! We got us a street bum!”

“Wonder what he sells?” Piers mused.

“What makes you think he’s selling anything?” Gordon asked.

Malcolm laughed, “They’re always selling stuff, that’s why they’re on the street.”

“Wanna do him like we did little Evans?” Piers asked.

Dudley grinned that grin that ten-year old Harry had so feared. The grin that meant you were cornered.

“Why not? Let’s see what he’s selling.”

At this point, Harry was getting ready to interrupt, to make noise and wake the man up so he could escape, to hide and hit the boys with a few nasty curses, to do _something_ to stop them from beating the poor man to a bloody pulp. Dudley was a boxing champion after all.

“HEY! HOMELESS GUY!”

The blonde in question awoke at the loud voice, sitting up and turning to see the four boys crowded around his bench.

“Can I help you?”

Ed was rather proud of the fact that his accent was nearly gone. After several weeks of talking to the locals, he had nearly mastered the language.

He was also rather proud that he hadn’t pounded the kids into the sidewalk when they yelled him awake. ‘ _Alphonse would be so proud of my self-control.’_

“Hey guys, he’s foreign!” the mousy one kindly informed his peers.

Ed resisted the dire need to roll his eyes at that statement. _‘Me? Foreign? No shit, Sherlock.’_

Ed really did like that character. His adventures were one of the fictional books he had read. Taking a page from the greatest detective who ever lived, he tapped his figure tips together, resting his chin on them, his eyebrows raised.

“Elementary, my dear stranger.”

Harry tried. He really did try very hard not to laugh, but Dudley and Piers caught the sound of his suppressed chortles behind them and turned to see the scrawny Potter kid. To Harry’s immense satisfaction, Dudley paled. He was probably thinking the foreign weirdo was a wizard as well now, if Harry was involved with him. Relief washed over Harry, as Dudley would never purposefully antagonize an adult wizard. The last time he did, he had to have a pig tail surgically removed. He was certainly in no hurry to repeat the traumatizing experience.

Unfortunately, Piers did not share Dudley’s fear.

“What are you here for, Potter?” he sneered, “Is he your dealer? What’s he selling you, eh? Where you getting the money for it? You beating up kids for pocket change?”

Harry grew increasingly angry as Piers continued firing off insulting question after insulting question, but before he could retaliate, the older teen on the bench spoke up. 

“What do you mean ‘What’s he selling you?’  Who said I am selling anything?”

Dudley decided now was as good a time to speak up as any. He had to keep up appearances in front of the gang at least.

“You’re a little drug dealer, aren’t you?”

What transpired after that taunt would haunt the four bullies till the end of their days. With a few swift movements, the strange boy had given Dudley a few fists to the face and a knee or two to the gut, all the while yelling about an over exaggerated slight to his height. Dudley’s loyal gang turned tail and ran, leaving their “fearless leader” to fight for himself. The boxing champion fell to the ground when the foreigner dropped the collar he had grabbed in his anger.

“Oops. Might have hit a little too hard. He is just a kid. Oops.”

Harry shook himself out of his shock, moving forward to claim his cousin before he got pounded again. Harry may not like the guy, but he didn’t want to just leave him to this violent stranger. He was probably already going to be blamed for the state of him already. He was always blamed when Dudley got himself in trouble. 

“That’s my cousin,” he called running up to kneel down to Dudley, “Can you stand?”

Dudley groaned. He took that as a yes. 

“Zorry, I let my temper get ze better of me again.”

Harry glanced up, mildly fearful, to see his potential attacker looking rather sheepish. 

“It’s okay,” Harry reassured the guy, “Lord knows the jerk could use a good beating or two, but what did he even say? He’s taunted me and beat the crap out of loads of kids, but I’m the only one who ever fought back.”

The stranger grumbled something in what Harry assumed was his native language again.

“In English?”

The stranger flinched, looking sheepish. 

“I zaid he called me little,” he explained, scratching his cheek in embarrassment, “It’s a sore spot of mine.”

Harry nodded. _‘Fair enough. Heaven knows I was short for the longest time. Still am a bit, actually.’_

“The name’s Harry.”

“Ed.”

“Friggen demon.”

The two glanced at the ground to see Dudley starting to recover. Harry moved to help him to his feet, but the large boy brushed him off, standing up on his own out of fear of his cousin and sheer stubbornness. 

The look Ed was giving him was equal parts righteous fury and apologetic embarrassment. Dudley cowed under the look, grabbing Harry’s arm to drag him away. 

“Come on, mom’ll be worried if we’re out too late.”

Harry snorted. Dudley never cared about his mom’s worries before now, but by saying that, it was a slight warning to the dangerous man that punched him that he had other people backing him. 

Ed nodded, “Your rude oaf of a cousin has a point, Harry. Best to get you two home. Especially so he can get some ice on that bruise.”

Harry looked, and there was indeed a bruise blossoming on Dudley’s left cheek. 

“I’ll walk you boys home. As apology for overreacting.”

Dudley snorted, despite the circumstances, “‘You boys?’  You can’t be more than a year older than us.”

A vein throbbed on Ed’s temple, and the sixteen-year-old’s eyes widened in fear, taking a few steps back to protect himself. 

“I highly doubt that you are nineteen, so I, therefore, must be more than a year older than you,” the blonde ground out through clenched teeth. 

Harry hid his surprise better than Dudley did, but it seemed Ed had managed to calm himself down. . . . 

“I’m not that short anymore, for Truth’s sake. I’ve got a whole two centimeters on Roy!”

. . . For the most part. 

“Anyway, let’s get you home.”

Thus settled, the alchemist grabbed his small suitcase off the bench, tossed his coat over his shoulder, and headed off, before stopping, sheepishly turning to ask the boys where they lived. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, if anyone is ooc, sorrynotsorry. It's my story. Dealwithit. And write reviews. If people really don't like it, I'll change something.


	3. Dementors Attacked, But I Made a Friend?

It took a little convincing, but eventually Dudley followed the two boys, maintaining a safe distance of course. No way was he getting near that gold-eyed freak again. Dudley has never seen a right hook that fast. 

The man in question simply glanced back to see that the large one was still following, before continuing his conversation with the slenderer of the two.

“Why so many?”

Harry had been asking Ed about the rings he wore.

There laughter at Ed’s story of his bus mishap a few weeks prior died on their lips, however, as icy cold seeped into the alleyway they were traversing. 

_‘Dementors.’_

Harry knew this was bad. He couldn’t use magic in front of muggles, and worse, muggles couldn’t even see dementors. Neither of his companions would be able to escape, and Harry had no way to protect them. 

“H-Harry, w-whatever you’re doing, s-stop it!” Dudley yelped, his face white as a ghost. 

“You know I’m not allowed,” Harry growled out, hoping Dudley wouldn’t say any more in front of Ed, picking up the pace, knowing it was useless to outrun dementors. 

Dudley’s eyes, already the size of dinner plates, somehow widened more as the alleyway was plunged into darkness. 

“H-he’s one of you, f-freaks, isn’t he?!” Dudley shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Ed, “That’s why he was so fast! W-whatever you’re doing, m-make it stop!”

When the light of the alley had been sapped, Ed had frozen, expecting Pride to seize him at any moment, only barely conscious of the fight between the two younger boys. He didn’t understand what they were talking about, but he knew one thing: they needed to get out of there.

Grabbing Dudley’s arm, he pulled the boy forward, “Harry, let’s go.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as they jogged toward the end of the alleyway, only for it to get caught in his throat a second later. 

Blocking the end of the alley was Harry’s worst fear: a dementor. 

“THE HELL IS THAT THING?!”

Harry was distracted from pulling out his wand at Ed’s exclamation. To Harry’s surprise, the golden-haired boy was staring right at the dementor, clearly able to see it, despite being a muggle, like Harry assumed. 

Dudley clearly did not see them, as he tore off down the alleyway in the other direction to escape the two, heading straight for another one. 

 _‘_ Two _of them?!’_

Harry pulled out his wand, trying to pull a happy memory to mind as happiness was sucked from the alleyway. 

“Expecto Patronum!”

Silver vapor escaped his wand. 

Ed’s suitcase hit the pavement, his knees following. 

“M-mommy!”

“Expecto PATRONUM!”

Silver vapor again. To Harry’s amazement, it seemed to be enough to jolt Ed back to reality, as the man shakily got to one knee, before attempting to punch the black-cloaked figure where they assumed the face was. 

To Harry’s continued shock, the punch connected, sending the dementor flying. 

_‘That’s new.’_

The hit seemed to take more out of Ed than it did the dementor, however, as the man collapsed immediately, breathing ragged.

The punch reminded Harry of the time Hermione had sucker punched Malfoy, and his mind clung to it, pulling up more memories of his friends.

With one last great effort, he yelled, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

A beautiful silver stag shot out of his wand, knocking back the dementor in his face, then chasing away the dementors that had focused on his new friend and cousin. Once the dementors were gone, he pulled himself to his feet shakily. _‘When did I even get on the ground?’_ He wobbled over to Ed. _‘Good, still breathing and it’s erratic, so his soul is still there.’_   He glanced over to see Dudley roll over, promptly vomiting all over the alley. _‘He’s fine then.’_

“Dementors in Little Whinging! Where is that Mundungus?!”

 

 

 

“Duddy-kins!” Petunia shrieked, seeing her boy held up by Harry, his ghastly complexion striking a brilliant comparison to the bright purple bruise on his cheek. 

Vernon was roughly the color of an overripe eggplant. 

“WHAT THE BLAZES DID YOU DO TO OUR SON?!”

“I didn’t do anything to him! We were attacked!” Harry defended, letting Vernon and Petunia take the heavy boy from him so he could carry Ed inside easier, the man’s suitcase still in his hand. Harry was honestly impressed that he had made it all the way home without dropping anybody. 

Luckily, no one was paying attention to Harry, as they were too busy fussing over Dudley, so the Boy Who Lived hiked Ed higher on his back and dashed up the stairs to his bedroom. Depositing Ed on the bed and his suitcase on the floor, he dashed back downstairs to the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards until he found what he was looking for: chocolate chips. 

Tossing a handful at Dudley as he passed with a hurried explanation, he dashed back up the stairs, munching on a few chips of his own. When he reached his room, Ed seemed to be starting to come around, if the loud groaning and twitching was anything to go by. 

“Keep it down, Ed. My aunt and uncle would throw you out if they knew you were up here.”

Ed groaned again, blinking a single eye open to glare at him. The dark-haired boy was a little impressed that the boy could still be intimidating in this state. 

“Here, eat this, it’ll help,” he ordered, offering a handful of the chocolate morsels. 

“What is it?” Ed asked, pulling himself up, scowling. 

Harry glanced at the package, “Semi-sweet chocolate morsels. They help, I promise.”

Assured that it wasn’t milk chocolate, Ed took the offered treat and relaxed as warmth seemed to fill his down to his core. He subconsciously rubbed his leg, massaging the aching port as the chocolate worked its magic. Harry kept giving him handfuls, and Ed kept eating them in silence, grateful for the respite. After a few moments of silence and chocolate, however, Ed’s curiosity became more pressing than his well-being. 

“What were those things?”

Harry swallowed his own mouthful of happiness before answering. 

“Er, well, the thing is . . .”

“Spit it out, Harry. I know those things weren’t human,” Ed ordered softly. 

Harry gulped, afraid of getting in trouble for telling the muggle he had done magic in front of about magical creatures.

“They’re dementors.”

Oh well. He was already in trouble for underage magic, the letters came while he was looking for the chocolate. At least Dumbledore wouldn’t let them take his wand. 

“What’s a dementor? How did it make everything dark and cold? How did it bring up those memories? What made them leave?” Ed fired question after question. 

Harry took a deep breath and began answering. 


	4. I am Surrounded by Crazy People, But I’m Crazy Too, So It’s Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have an update.

“Magic?” Ed asked, one skeptical eyebrow raised, an unimpressed frown tugging his lips, fiddling with the wand Harry had giving him to look over. 

A bone-weary sigh flew from the boy as he sagged, like a teddy bear without enough stuffing. 

“Yeah, I didn’t believe it at first either. I didn’t know I was a wizard until I was eleven. Didn’t know about my parents either.”

“Tell me more.”

So, Harry did. 

 

“Gross! His face was the back of his head? Blech!”

Harry shuddered. It was the most traumatic experience he had had at that point in his life, and it gave him nightmares up until a few months ago. His nightmares were a little worse now.

Edward chuckled darkly, “Just imagine. Every time Squirrel put his turban on, Moldywort got a face full of fabric.”

Harry had to giggle at that.

“Fred and George did bewitch snowballs to bounce off his turban that winter. I guess that means they hit Voldemort in the face loads of times.”

 

“Wait, a giant snake was slithering around the pipes for _centuries_ , and no one noticed?”

 

“So, the rat was actually the man who betrayed your parents?” Harry nodded in response, “That’s awkward.”

 

“If you’re the supposed ‘Chosen One’,” Ed used air quotes to express his skepticism, “And you saw this dude make a body for himself, which we will be discussing later, then why would this Bumblebee guy leave you out of the loop?”

“I don’t know! That’s what’s so frustrating!” Harry growled out, not bothering to correct the name. It was entertaining when Ed got the names wrong.

It was now late at night, a couple days later. Ed had been sneaking out before dawn, then hiding in Harry’s room to chat and sleep at night, but the Dursley’s were gone for some event thing, so the two boys were sitting in the living room, snacking on the foods Ed had purchased earlier that evening and enjoying the dark and quiet that was Number four without the Dursleys. 

“Tch. He sounds like Mustang, always trying to hide something from me. Thinks he’s protecting me or some- “

Harry glanced at his new friend to see what made him stop. He was stone-still, eyes narrowed in the direction of the kitchen, eyebrows drawn taut. 

“What- “

Harry’s whisper was cut off by Ed’s hand over his mouth. Then Harry heard it. 

There was someone in the kitchen. 

They clearly weren’t muggles, as they were questioning everything they came across. With the stealth of a cat, which was surprising in his combat boots, he crept to the doorway, motioning for Harry to stay where he was. Silently, they waited. 

The intruders walked through the living room, completely missing the boy blending into the wall, and they wouldn’t have noticed Harry behind the couch if he hadn’t popped his head up, right as Ed struck. 

“Professor Lupin?!”

“Waaahggllg!”

“Harry!”

“Ed, stop!”

“Tonks!”

Ed paused, his captive in a choke hold, seeing the sticks pointed at him now that Harry had turned on the light. He turned to Harry. 

“So, they aren’t here to kill you?” he asked, loosening his grip on the woman in his arms so she could breathe again. 

“No, they aren’t Death Eaters.”

“Oh.”

The awkward tension in the air continued to grow as Ed held the woman, Tonks, if the shout earlier was anything to go by, as she caught her breath. Once he deemed her fit to stand on her own, he let go, stepping back, hands raised in a placating gesture. 

“Harry, your friends can put zeir schticks down now.”

Harry rushed to stand between Ed and the newcomers, hoping to avoid breaking anything with one of Ed’s fistfights. 

“Move, Harry!” Moody warned, his wand still trained on the man behind him. 

“Wait, you don’t understand, Ed’s just- “

“Harry,” Remus’s quiet voice cut through the building noise like a knife, “Who is this? Is he the muggle Mrs. Finch said was with you the other night?”

Harry glanced behind him at Ed to see his golden eyes were trained on the wands still pointed at him. The alchemist glanced back at Harry, urging him to answer. 

Harry took a deep breath. Ed was trusting him with this. He needed to make sure they understood. 

“This is Ed. Yes, he was with me the other night, but he could see the dementors, so he can’t be a muggle. And no, he’s not a Death Eater,” he added, expecting the next question, as he saw them exchange looks at that statement, “He’s had ample opportunity to off me and hasn’t.”

“Harry, what form does your Patronus take?” 

Harry stared Remus straight in the eye and answered with a slight waver in his voice, “Prongs.”

Ed was thoroughly confused, but everyone seemed to relax a bit. 

“I don’t trust him,” Moody growled, not lowering his wand. 

“You don’t trust anyone,” Tonks rasped out, still massaging her sore neck. 

“Sorry about that,” Ed apologized, “Harry has some enemies, and we weren’t expecting friends to break in.”

“Why are you here?” Moody shot back, his mad eye swirling all over Ed. 

“Should I not be?” Ed shot back, an eyebrow raised. 

“We simply were not expecting you, Mr...” Lupin supplied, hoping to avoid an outright confrontation. 

“His name’s Ed. You would’ve known that if you read my letters,” Harry bit out, “I sent one to you, and I sent one to Sirius, but apparently you don’t read my letters anymore.”

Ed noted the way Lupin cringed away from the accusation, solidifying its validity. 

“Harry dear,” the one called Tonks said, “let’s go get you packed,” she offered a hand to lead him away like a child. 

Ed scoffed. He could see why Harry had been venting to him. They were treating him like he was two. 

“I’m not leaving Ed to you three,” Harry stated, eyes narrowed. 

The boy in question nudged Harry from behind. Harry turned, questioningly. 

“Go on. If it gets you out of this house faster, I can handle myself,” Ed encouraged, “Pack up my suitcase while you’re at it, would you?”

Everyone in the room tensed. 

“He’s been staying with you, Harry?” Lupin asked, his expression unreadable. 

“Yes, because he’s a decent person who needed a roof over his head.”

Harry stomped up the stairs with more than a little attitude. When Tonks had shut the door behind them, the three remaining aimed their wands back at Ed, though Moody had never let his drop. 

Ed raised his hands again, “I get it. You don’t trust me. After what Harry has told me, I don’t blame you. Feel free to ask whatever questions are needed to put your minds at ease, because I’m not leaving that boy alone.”

Everyone bristled at his last statement. 

“What is your name?” Lupin asked, starting the interrogation. 

Ed dropped his hands, shoving them in his pockets and leaning against the wall, “Colonel Edward Elric, Fullmetal of Amestris, State Researcher and Ambassador. Don’t look at me, I didn’t come up with the name,” he answered flippantly, aware of the fact that he _did_ just come up with the name, or at least, left some parts out.

Harry may trust them, but even Harry didn’t know about his alchemy.

The three newcomers shared skeptical looks. 

“Are you a werewolf?”

Ed couldn’t help it. He laughed. 

“Am I a what? Werewolf?” Ed’s eyes narrowed, “Wait, he called you Professor Lupin. You’re the one from two years ago, right? The one that helped out with the ratman?”

Lupin’s face confirmed his suspicions. 

“You’re a werewolf, right? Can werewolves sense each other like chimeras? How does the transformation work exactly? Is it only on the full moon, or can it be induced?” Ed paused, running theories through his head, wondering if there was a connection to his research.

“You have yellow eyes,” the big, quiet one stated, he didn’t know his name. 

Ed blinked.

“They’re gold, and what does that have to do with . . .” he trailed off as he studied Lupin’s eyes, “Ah, I see. Werewolves have yellow eyes, so you thought I was one because of my eyes. Well, got any silver or wolfsbane, or whatever else would prove my eyes are gold, not yellow?” Ed asked, not sure how to diffuse the situation. 

“He can’t be a werewolf,” Moody growled, “not with that leg and shoulder.”

Ed rolled his eyes at the questioning looks. With a hefty sigh, he pulled his left pant leg up to reveal the metal underneath his skin. 

“Woah.”


	5. I Get Kidnapped, But No One Says Anything

“Ed? They didn’t kill you, did they?” Harry called, sarcastically as he thumped down the stairs, Ed’s suitcase held tight in his hand. When he didn’t get a sarcastic answer back, just quiet murmuring from the living room, he got worried. Racing the rest of the way, he whipped around the corner to see the three all studying Edward’s left knee closely, as the owner of the leg explained how the port came to be imbedded in his knee, spinning the stray shrapnel story he had told so often even he believed it. Harry sighed in relief at seeing them relaxed, catching the attention of Shacklebolt. 

“Harry.”

Ed and the other two glanced up. Lupin quickly moved to block Ed’s knee from view, but Ed merely scoffed at the vain attempt to keep Harry from seeing it. Harry had noticed something off about the joint while Ed was recovering from the dementors. When he asked about it, Ed had reluctantly shown him the remains of the prosthetic. Harry thought it was the most badass thing he had ever seen. Clearly, Lupin agreed, to some extent. 

Harry shuffled in, handing the alchemist his suitcase once he had his pant leg back down.

“We didn’t bring an extra broom for Ed,” Lupin noted. 

“He’s coming with?” Tonks asked. 

“For now, and against my better judgment,” Moody answered. 

“At the very least, he can’t be polyjuiced, not with the shrapnel imbedded in that leg, and he’s no werewolf I’ve ever seen. Eyes are gold, not yellow.”

Ed rolled his eyes in the overly dramatic manner of one who is entirely done.

Lupin’s eyebrow rose. “Now, for the matter of the broom- “

“He can ride with me,” Harry interjected, eager to just be out of the godforsaken house. 

Moody huffed, then motioned for Harry to come to him, “Come here, boy. I need to disillusion you”

“You need to what?” asked Harry nervously.

“Disillusionment Charm,” Moody replied, raising his wand, “Lupin says you’ve got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won’t stay on while we’re flying; this’ll disguise you better. Here you go.”

He rapped Harry hard on the top of his head, and Harry had to repress a shiver. Cold trickles dripped down from where he had been tapped, like Moody had smashed a raw egg over his head.

“Nice one, Mad-Eye,” the bubblegum-haired witch praised.

Ed didn’t see what was so nice, however, because nothing seemed to happen. He could feel a thin layer of energy covering Harry like a second skin when he hopped behind him on his broom, as his work with alchemy and passes through the Gate gave him a bit of a sixth sense where energy was concerned. He shrugged, brushing it off. The charm clearly did what it was supposed to, since everyone seemed to agree with Bubblegum.

With that settled, they soared off into the night, Ed hanging on for dear life. 

 

 

When they landed, Ed glanced around. They were in a simple neighborhood, houses all around, although one of them was clearly different. While the others were all in acceptable condition, number 12, according to the old number by the door, had clearly been let go. Ed knew this house was their destination because the whole building thrummed with energy.

The crazy escort, Moody, if he remembered correctly, shoved a piece of paper at the two boys. 

“Read it. Memorize it.”

Harry and Ed both looked at it. 

‘The Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.’

Ed quirked an eyebrow. _‘What a pompous name.’_

He was a little confused, however, when Moody snagged the paper back, setting it alight. He also didn’t understand Harry’s amazement after Lupin told him to think about the words. The boy was gawking at Number 12, like it had popped a second head out of the ground. 

Or something. He hadn’t quite mastered figures of speech yet. 

“What are you staring at? Was something supposed to happen?” he asked, voicing his concern. 

Their escorts exchanged glances. If he couldn’t see Number 12, then he was definitely a muggle. 

“What do you think I’m staring at?! Number 12 just popped out of the ground!”

Harry let out an indignant squawk when Moody whacked him over the head. 

“Not out here!” He hissed again. 

Ed’s eyebrow quirked back up. 

“What do you mean Number 12 popped out of the ground?” Ed asked, wondering if the boy was okay. 

The members of the Order glanced at each other again. How were they going to explain to Dumbledore that they couldn’t bring the guy inside?

“You do realize it has been sitting there since we got here, right?”  Everyone stared at him, wide-eyed, “Are you guys dense, or just horribly unobservant?”

Before anyone could question him further, Moody shoved them forward, “Get inside! We’ve been out here too long already!”

 

 

When they entered the house, a woman with bright red, curly hair grabbed Harry into a bone crushing hug. Ed smiled at the motherly woman. She reminded him of Gracia, if the soft-spoken young widow was a little less soft-spoken, a little older, and had a head of red curls. Basically, they were both motherly, and that was it.

The woman, Molly Weasley, he was told, ushered them both in, sending them both upstairs after a quick word with their escorts.

Harry and Ed both stomped up the stairs, Harry eager to see his friends and finally get some answers, and Ed lost in thought.

He had been willing to accept magic because he had seen some Ishvalan magicians with the refugees he had helped, but this magic was on such a bigger scale. He couldn’t wait to study it. Perhaps magic could be the key to finding a cure for the chimeras back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, short chapter, but we're finally out of Privet Drive. It'll be another year before we're at Hogwarts at this rate.


	6. Harry Calls Me a Midget, And No One is a Threat, But I Don’t Like Bumblebore

Before introductions could be made between the redheaded teen in their room and the blonde, there was a loud bang from downstairs. 

“WHAT?! AND YOU JUST LEFT THEM ALONE?! HARRY!!”

The teenagers all cringed as they recognized the sound of Sirius on a protective rampage. Ed just stood in their midst, flummoxed. He thought he was deemed okay? If he were honest, he really just wanted to sleep. Somehow, he had gotten himself dragged into a magical hideaway from an old power-hungry dark wizard with a bunch of other wizards that were trying to defeat him. If he wasn’t living it, he’d laugh at the story. 

With a bang, Sirius announced his entrance into the room, the door nearly breaking off its hinges. Instinctively, Ed moved between Harry and the intruder, but Harry assured him the intruder was again friendly when he ran out from behind him. 

“Sirius, I’m fine! Calm down, before you break something!”

Sirius quickly swept Harry behind him, ignoring the protests of the boy, to his growing ire. 

Clearly, this man would be difficult to appease. 

Feeling like he had been in this position far too often tonight for his liking, Ed raised his hands, showing that he was unarmed, “There’s no need for ze sticks, or raised voices. You lot are givink me a headache,” Ed growled, annoyed.

Sirius scowled, distrust deeply rooted for good reason, “Where are you from, kid? You’ve got a little accent there.”

Harry facepalmed. He had learned very quickly not to mention any word about size or age while around an agitated or nervous Ed, as normally, he could just barely keep his temper under control when his size was mentioned. Unfortunately, no one else had. 

“WHO ARE JOO CALLING A TINY LITTLE PIPSQUEAK!?!”

Startled, Sirius fired off a spell, but the alchemist dodged it easily, running up to land a blow to Sirius’ stomach, but Harry managed to pull Sirius back before it connected. 

“ED! KNOCK IT OFF, YA MIDGET!”  Harry yelled, hoping to divert his short rage away from Sirius. 

Ed stopped, frozen, staring at Harry. 

“Did you just call me a...  a midget?” Ed asked, shock and betrayal evident on his features.

Harry whacked him on the head with his wand, and he flinched. 

“Yes, I did. Don’t make me do it again.”

Ed fumed, but relented, sulking in the corner. 

“What just happened?” Ron asked from his spot safely on the other side of the room. 

“Don’t mention his size or age, and he won’t flip out on you,” Harry warned. 

“How old is he? Sixteen?” asked Ron, the tactful. 

“I’m twenty, damnit!”

After he was fully assured of Harry’s safety, Sirius stomped back down to the meeting. 

“Gee, glad to know he cares about me too,” Ron grumbled, a little irked to have been ignored and then yelled at. 

“Shut it, Carrots,” Ed growled, equally irked.

Harry shot him a glare before flopping onto his bed, claiming the one on the far left. Ed shrugged, plopping his suitcase at the foot of the middle one before flopping on it himself.

He huffed when he felt Hedwig’s talons land on his back. Animals just didn’t like him. 

“Hedwig!”

Ron cleared his throat awkwardly, “We really are sorry for keeping you in the dark, mate.”

Harry’s smile at seeing Hedwig dropped back into a frown at the reminder of his anger, but before he could say anything, Hermione burst into the room. 

“Harry!” the girl gushed, Ed cringed at the volume, his headache back in full force, “I’m so glad to see you! It was awful not being able to talk about anything, really.”

Before Harry could respond, there were two loud cracks and the room suddenly had two more people in it.

“Hiya, Har-hlgk!”

Faster than a cobra striking, Ed had an arm around each neck, yanking the two lanky boys to their knees. 

“Ed, their friends too!” Harry yelled. 

Ed dropped them with a huff, “Should I just assume everyone sneaking up on you is just a friend?” he asked as the Weasley twins coughed and gagged on the floor.

Harry nodded, “Yeah, that’s best. If I start yelling, ‘No, get away!’, then you can pounce all you want.”

Ed huffed again, “Spoiling all my fun.”

“Wh-who are you?” one of the twins gasped out, the other still coughing from his brief choking. 

“Ed.”

“Enlightening.”

“Watch it, brat,” Ed warned. 

“Brat?” the second twin asked, finally over his coughing, “We’re older than all you lot.”

“Don’t count on it,” Harry muttered, ignoring the short rant Ed was lost in, banging the twins over the head with his fists. 

The ruckus died down with a sharp rap at the door. 

“Harry? They want Ed downstairs. They’ve got a few more questions for him,” came the soft voice of Remus Lupin. 

Ed groaned, tired of all the attention and honestly just wanting to sleep. Nevertheless, he padded over to the door and followed the man down the stairs.

He chuckled when he heard the one introduced as Ron yell, “He’s bloody terrifying, Harry!”

 

 

 

Ed was instantly on high alert when he walked into the room. He recognized most of the faces, but the person who caught his eye, he did not know.

The man reminded him far too much of Bradley.

There was an air of power that radiated from the white-haired man, and the twinkle in his eye was too similar to the ultimate eye for Ed’s liking. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, like he had walked into a room with a homunculus, the energy from all those souls pulsing in the air.

Several eyebrows raised at his hesitation to enter the room and obvious discomfort at Dumbledore’s presence. 

_‘Perhaps the boy is not as innocent as they thought if he fears me.’_

“Is that you, Envy?” Ed asked in Xerxesian. 

Dumbledore cocked his head to the side. He was fluent in forty-seven different languages, but he had never heard one quite like that one before. Just who was this boy?

“What language was that, child?” the old wizard asked. 

Sirius jumped, ready to intervene if the boy started another short rant, but the boy didn’t move a muscle, still refusing to walk through the door. 

Ed’s eyes narrowed, “Envy, I don’t know how you got here, but I swear to truth, I am going to rip every soul from your stone one at a time.”

The old man blinked. He didn’t know what was said, but it sounded threatening. 

Ed’s eyes glinted, “At least this old fart looks far better than your real face.”

When Ed didn’t receive a scowl, signature smirk, or even a twitch in response, he breathed a slight sigh of relief. 

“Sorry, I needed to make sure you weren’t someone else. He definitely would have snapped at that last one,” Ed’s eyes remained narrowed, however, “You’re Bumblebore, right?”  Lupin hid a snicker behind him, the sudden change in atmosphere cracking his usual façade.

“I don’t trust you. Thought I’d get that out of the way first. You’ve got way too much energy for a normal person. What are you?” Ed’s eyes narrowed even more if that were possible. 

Dumbledore cracked a smile, “I am merely an old, badgering coot.”

Ed smirked at that, finally moving into the room and taking a seat at the table. 

“I don’t believe that for a minute, but it’s funny, so I’ll let it slide for now.”

When Ed slid into his seat, everyone in the room that had been held in a kind of stupor watching the two geniuses square off snapped back to reality. 

“I don’t like him. Arrogant, cocky, rash. We have enough of his type here in the adults,” he spared a glance Sirius’ direction. The dog animagus stuck his tongue out at the potions master, “We don’t need to add a child to the mix.”

Ed glared at the greasy haired man who spoke. He looked like the type to be a quadruple spy or something equally confusing and ridiculous. He had an air of someone who played for the team that was in front of him at the time, never revealing where his true loyalties lie.

Ed had seen that look in Mustang’s eye too much not to recognize it. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Greasy, but I don’t even know what ‘here’ is. I’m guessing a secret organization with the sole purpose of taking down old Moldywort, but that’s just a guess.”

Down the table, Sirius was busting a gut trying to hold in his laughter. 

“You are correct, Edward,” Dumbledore replied, before Snape could lash out, “And we would like to know what your part is in this, being a friend of Harry’s. I’m also interested to know how you saw Number 12 without having been told by the Secret Keeper.”

Ed did not trust that twinkle in his eye. Every time his eyes twinkled, Ed’s headache pounded harder. 

“Look, I vas only vith Harry because he is a good kid and an interesting von at that. I have mien own plans, and how vas ze house not zere? Vhy could Harry not zee it?”

The pounding headache was getting to be overwhelming, his accent slipping a bit. 

“What are those plans?” a quiet voice with stifling power asked. 

Ed tried to form a response, but as soon as he locked eyes with Dumbledore, pain erupted behind his eyes as image after image flashed through his mind. An old man, an old friend dueling with him over the Elder wand, Riddle in his office, asking for the DADA position, James’ last conversation with him, when he left the cloak, placing Harry at his aunt’s door, running to an unconscious Harry, praying he wasn’t too late, examining the diary, thinking, pondering, watching Harry and Hermione run up to him as he locked the door to the medical wing, pulling Harry away from the lifeless body of Cedric Diggory, his argument with Fudge over the return of Voldemort, colors, sounds, flashes, light, then he was back. 

He lay on the floor, panting, trying to get his bearings, realizing belatedly that those infernal sticks were pointed at him again.

“Vha... vhat just happened?” he asked, still gasping for air.

Sirius growled, “That’s what we want to know.”

“Relax, Sirius,” came a faint voice from the other side of the room.

Ed slowly sat up to see that the white-bearded man was also on the floor, with Mr. Greasy by his side. Realization spread across Ed’s face, anger swiftly following.

“Just what the hell, old man, gives you the right to go poking around in my head? Vhat vas so important that joo had to poke around my head vizout my permission?!”

“My apologies, Colonel, I merely needed to confirm that you were speaking the truth.”

Ed growled, deep in his throat, “And did joo find vhat joo vere looking for, _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?”_ he bit out, careful to pronounce the name properly.

Everyone’s eyes widened.

“It seems you found far more than I.”

Ed huffed, shaking off those futilely attempting to keep him down. He stood, walking to the other side of the table so the man could see him glaring.

“Do not _dare_ to enter my mind again. I cannot guarantee that you would survive it.”

With that warning, he turned on his heel, his red coat whipping around, showing off the flamel on the back, before stomping away, back up the stairs.

Dumbledore’s wide eyes followed the symbol until it was no longer in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is much longer than the last. Ed's accent is getting annoying to write.


	7. Everyone Throw a Pity Party!

“Zat bastard!” Ed growled angerly, slamming the door shut behind him.

“What happened?” Hermione asked, worried. She didn’t know the boy well, but he was clearly very upset.

“Zat Headmaster of yours just tried rummaging through my head. Unfortunately for him, Truth doesn’t let anyone see the Gate without paying the toll.”

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, seeing how shaken up he was. He didn’t speak in his native language often, but he had been doing it a lot tonight.

Ed’s shoulder’s sagged, “I am fine, the Headmaster vas forcefully zrown out of my mind before he could even do anyzink, and before joo ask, I had nozink to do viz it, it just happened,” he sighed, “I ended up seeink some of his memories and zoughts, but nozink substantial, just little zinks.”

With a mighty thump, he let gravity do its thing as he slid down the wall he was leaning on, landing on the floor, hard. Harry noticed then how run down and tired the man looked. Glancing at his watch, Harry realized it was nearly dawn.

“How about we hit the hay and talk more tomorrow?” Harry suggested.

The group of teens plus one adult all nodded absentmindedly. Ron turned around and happily flopped face-first onto his mattress, soft snores slowly forcing their way into open air. The girls and the twins both left to their own rooms, and Harry helped lug Ed to his feet, so he could make it to his bed. Taking a page out of Ron’s book, the young man flopped onto his bed as well. Harry followed suit, much more gently than his two friends.

As the Boy Who Lived lay staring at the ceiling, his upcoming hearing started prancing around his mind, taunting him. What was he supposed to do now?

 

 

The next day found everyone cleaning.

Now, Edward was no stranger to cleaning, but cleaning without alchemy? Boring.

At least the magical, blue bug-people made it interesting.

While cleaning, Ed discovered the library, but he was scolded when he tried to skirt off to read, by Hermione of all people. Ed didn’t much care for the bookworm. He was always something of a loner because of his intelligence and spitfire personality, but intelligent people could usually get a good conversation going. Unfortunately, Ed learned very quickly after being stuck in a room cleaning with the girl that she was a talkative know-it-all, the worst kind.

Don’t get Ed wrong, he didn’t mind that she was a know-it-all, but she had an opinion on _everything_ and shared it, repeatedly.

His patience was wearing thin. There was only so much he could hear “S.P.E.W.” before he did it himself.

Luckily, he was with the twins for the next room, and the blue bug-people, doxies they called them, were easier to handle with the capable twins helping out.

He really wanting to transmute the stuffing out of those pests though.

Dinner that night was a little awkward.

The twins, once again proving that they could do magic outside the school now, had sent dinner soaring through the air to land, mostly, on the table. The bread knife, however, landed in the exact place Ed’s hand had been half a second prior.

Molly promptly flipped her lid, yelling herself hoarse at the twins, while Ed inspected the trembling knife.

_‘Good thing I have quick reflexes.’_

With a tug, the knife easily slipped from the table, but once it was free, it zipped from Ed’s hand, heading straight for his head. Instinctively, Ed dodged to the side, knocking the knife out of the air, the bangles on his wrist tinging in the silence.

“I told you, Harry,” Ed said, a grin on his face, “Old habits die hard.”

The room quieted at that, everyone awkwardly shuffling around him the rest of the night.

Not like he cared. He was used to it.

For the most part, everyone was treating him like the other kids. He knew they still talked about him where he couldn’t hear, because those wonderful inventions of the twins’ allowed for flawless eavesdropping. Unfortunately, the adults somehow found out, and took measures to ensure that their secret meetings would not be overheard anymore. Fortunately, for Ed at least, he could still hear the conversations from the library, as he had rearranged some pipes with his alchemy to funnel sound from the kitchen up to his corner he had staked out of the library.

He chose not to share his eavesdropping with the others, because, so far, he had successfully kept his alchemy a secret. He didn’t want to lose his ace-in-the-hole so soon, especially around powerful wizards. He had found an old book on alchemy in the Blacks’ library, but its contents had him wishing to hide his talents. According to the book, the main goal of alchemy was turning lead into gold and making Philosopher’s stones so that you could live forever, both of which were taboo, and for good reason. Ed just hoped this was only one view on alchemy, and not how the whole wizarding world saw the science. The book mentioned one man had successfully created a stone, Nicholas Flamel, who had recently turned six hundred sixty-five.

It made him sick.

How could someone live that long by using other lives? Was the creation of his stone accidental, like his father’s?

How common were accidental Philosopher’s stones?

Resolved not to be exploited for his skill and knowledge, Ed hid his alchemy.

He still read every book he could get his hands on. Apparently, he had to be careful what books he picked up here, though, because some were cursed. He had opened one once that started screaming at him.

He searched through history books, hoping to find something about Xeno, but he could find nothing. Finally, after about four days searching between cleaning, he found something in a book of ancient legends.

A legend of a lost land of golden people, who were capable of many technological wonders. It was said that the thunderbird was from this ancient land, and that a thunderbird, if you correctly answered a riddle, would fly you back to its homeland to become a golden being, but if you answered incorrectly, the bird would steal your soul.

_‘What a load of bull. It’s just our eye and hair color. We aren’t actually gold. And what’s this nonsense about thunderbirds? I’ve never seen a thunderbird in Amestris.’_

His notebook was getting fuller and fuller. He had his alchemy notes, his notes on magic and the theory behind it, as well as a copy of Marcoh’s notes, as he had destroyed the copy Sheska made. He didn’t want those secrets falling into the wrong hands, and only he and Al could read his notebook. Not because he didn’t let anyone, no, because his notes were coded, just like every other alchemist. Their code? Xerxesian. No one still alive besides them could read the language, and they had every surviving word from the ancient ruins. It was the language their father’s books were in, the language he spoke to them when they were little, the first language they spoke, and their secret.

Ed sighed. This train of thought was getting depressing. He and Al were the only two left of their once great people.

Yup, depressing.

His train of thought was interrupted when Sirius spoke.

“There you are.”

Ed glanced up from his notebook to see the escaped criminal leaning against a bookcase. Harry had told him his godfather’s story, so Ed knew a little about the man, but he was still a little wary. Their first meeting had been awkward. He also called Ed short, and Ed held grudges.

“I was hoping I’d find you here. Hermione said you like reading almost as much as she does,” Sirius chuckled.

Ed glanced down at the books he had laying open and spread around him. “I’ll put them away. I just like this chair and didn’t want to get back up.” Ed explained, rising from his seat and grabbing a stack of books to put away.

“Not a problem. Don’t worry about it. My brother was the same way, always in here, books everywhere,” Sirius’ eyes were fond as he spoke of Regulus, “That was his favorite chair, too, you know.”

Ed nodded absently, sliding another book onto the shelf. ‘ _I don’t understand._ _I thought he hated me?’_

“My little brother reads as much as I do. We would spend hours laying on the floor in my father’s study reading together.” He ventured, unsure if he wanted to share that much information. The mood seemed right, somehow.

“Sounds nice,” Sirius remarked quietly, picking up a book from the stack to be put back and fingering the binding absentmindedly.

Ed decided not to explain that the books they were reading were to help them revive their mother, and the father whose study they invaded had abandoned them at a young age. That would ruin the nice mood he had going.

_‘Look at that, General Bastard, I can diplomacy, too!’_

Setting the book back on the stack, Sirius turned to Ed, a serious look on his face, blurting, “Let’s start over.”

Ed blinked. “What?”

Sirius resisted to urge to bash his head against a bookcase. He was never very good at apologies, but twelve years in Azkaban certainly didn’t help.

“I would like to apologize for my actions when we met. I was not very, uh, kind.” He muttered, looking everywhere but at Ed, fidgeting nervously.

Ed just brushed it off.

“It’s fine. I nearly dislocated Tonks’ arm when we met.”

Sirius stared.

“Well, I didn’t mean to, er, I did, but I didn’t,” he tried explaining, “I mean, I didn’t know her, and they were breaking into the house, so I thought they were the guys after Harry, so I attacked first and asked question later. I do that a lot,” Ed sighed. He should probably not do that if he was going to prove to Mustang that he could be diplomatic, too. “Anyway, point is, I was an unknown close to someone you care about. Makes sense to be wary.”

Sirius nodded. “I suppose. Thanks for giving me a second chance. Harry was a little mad at me.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Harry’s a little mad at everyone.”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “That’s true enough. I was a little worried he would punch someone when he got here.”

Ed grinned. He just might like this Sirius guy after all.

 

 

 

After a lengthy discussion with Sirius about the contents of the library, Ed eventually found himself buried in books again. He was awakened from his book-induced trance by the smell of food wafting into the room and enticing his stomach to complain. Glancing at his pocket watch, his eyes widened at how late it had gotten. He had spent the whole day in the library again. Dutifully replacing every book he had unearthed from the shelves, he dusted himself off, tucked his notebook into his pocket, and headed downstairs to get food. His journey was interrupted when he heard quiet sobbing and whimpers from around the corner.

Gingerly, he padded around the corner towards the sound, seeing Harry standing frozen in a doorway a few meters down the hall. 

“Harry, what- “

His question was cut off when he saw Ron bloodied on the floor, the sticky, red liquid pooling beneath him. 

“CARROTS!”

Ed shoved past Harry to kneel in front of the prone boy, but before he could reach him to see the extent of the damage, there was a loud crack, and the body in front of him vanished, replaced by a sight he never wanted to see again. 

“... Big... brother?”

Ed couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, he could only stare at the mutilated girl in front of him. 

“N-Nina?” he stuttered, eyes wide in horror, his limbs unresponsive.

“Big... brother... Ed...”

A sob wracked his frame, his sorrow and guilt too much to contain. Unbidden tears streaked down his face. 

“I’m s-sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Play... with... me?”

“R-ridikulus!”

The boggart shifted with a crack, and everyone wished it hadn’t.

Where the creature before had been sad and in pain, the mess of rotten flesh and blood on the floor now made Harry want to puke.

“…b… bruh… broth… ther…”

He gagged, the coppery tang of blood filling the air. Horror filled him as a misshapen, gnarled hand flopped towards him, smacking the ground with a dull thud. He stumbled backwards, eyes wide, a shaking hand covering his mouth, whether to keep the stench of rotted flesh at bay or to keep the contents of his stomach down, he wasn’t conscious enough to say. He was vaguely aware of the tears racing each other down his cheeks as the creature flopped out to the floor, its mangled body wheezing.

“Edward!”

He jumped, twisting to see Lupin behind Harry in the doorway, his expression a mixture of concern and fear. He whipped back around when the creature snarled through the blood and fluid in its twisted lungs, his own breathing ragged and pained. Like a marionette with its strings cut, he crumpled, his knees hitting the floor with a dull clank that sent darts of pain up his thigh.

“B-boggart.” Molly whimpered from her spot on the floor.

Lupin glanced between the horror on the floor next to the shell-shocked and sobbing boy and deftly pulled out his wand, pushing past a shocked Harry, shouting, “Ridikulus!”

The mess on the floor shivered, but otherwise showed no signs of being affected.

_‘Not good.’_

“Molly, get him out of here!” he ordered, wand still trained on the boggart on the floor.

Mrs. Weasley jumped at his words as Harry ran in and dove to drag Ed away. He was much heavier than Harry remembered, but between Mrs. Weasley and the teen, they managed to pull the foreigner away faster than the creature could slither across the floor.

Taking the opportunity, Lupin stood between the boggart and Ed, shouting again, “Ridikulus!”

The horror vanished in another crack, replaced with a white orb that vanished in smoke.

“E-Ed?” Harry asked, worry lacing his tone. 

The boy didn’t respond, staring at the spot on the floor where the boggart had disappeared.

Harry knelt on the floor in front of him, hoping to snap him out of his shock. 

“Ed, look at me. It wasn’t real. It was a boggart. They show your worst fear. It wasn’t real.”

As Ed looked up, Harry saw the tears flowing freely down the older boy’s cheeks. 

“It-it was m-my fault. I couldn’t d-do anything to save her. She died like-like that, in p-pain. It’s my f-fault. Al was _in there_. His soul was in that… that thing.”

Harry didn’t understand what he was babbling, but he knew the boy was distraught and in shock, so he pulled the boy into a hug, rubbing his back comfortingly, just like Mrs. Weasley did whenever he had a nightmare while staying at the Burrow. 

“It’s okay. It’s over. The monster’s gone.”

Ed flinched under him, and he wondered if he was snapping out of it. The golden-eyed boy pushed him away, wiping his tears as he stood. 

“Vat vas dat?” he asked, his voice still shaky and quiet, accent slipping in his state.

Harry glanced at Remus, still comforting a sobbing Molly. 

“A boggart. It shows you your greatest fear.”

Ed nodded in understanding, remembering reading something about them in one of the books he had glanced through. His face hardening with his resolve, he marched the few steps over to the two adults before kneeling, softer this time, but still with an audible thunk that had Harry and Remus wincing.

Gently, he placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, silently coaxing her to look up at him. He offered her a soft, sad smile when she did. 

“I know what it’s like. Trying to protect everyone you love, but unable to know for sure if they would live to see the next day.”

Molly whimpered in response. 

Ed’s faux smile dropped, as his expression turned grimly serious, “I swear to you, Molly Weasley, I will do everything in my power to help. I will not let this madman murder your family.”

He said it with such conviction and determination that Molly was strangely comforted by the foreign boy that somehow had magic yet didn’t. His declaration reminded her of all the others that fought to protect her family and her world. With a shaky smile, she nodded in thanks. 

Satisfied, Ed got to his feet and strode purposefully from the room, followed quickly by Harry. He pushed past the growing audience crowded at the door, sweeping back down the hall, his red coat billowing behind him. 

“Ed!”

His pace slowed as he waited for Harry to catch up. 

“What were those things?”

Ed sighed. He was expecting a question like that, but it didn’t make it easier to talk about. He didn’t want to lie to Harry, his first friend in the new country.

“They were...  someone precious... I lost.”

“What happened to them?” Harry ventured, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He quickly added.

Ed shook his head. He needed to get this off his chest. Al was always telling him not to bottle stuff like this up.

“They were both destroyed with alchemy, and I couldn’t save them.”

His throat tight, Ed turned away before Harry could ask any more, heading back up the hall. 

 

 

 

Dinner was a quiet, somber affair that night. Everyone who had not seen the event with the boggart had heard about it by this point. No one wanted to mention it to Mrs. Weasley, and Harry had ensured no one asked Ed about it, for which he was grateful. 

Unfortunately, the quiet led to Harry contemplating his hearing the next morning, his conversation with Ed forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. That was a long chapter. It was also really hard to write, like, I think learning to speak Latin was easier.
> 
> Well, anyway, THREE CHAPTERS IN A WEEK. Don't expect it to happen again. I was feeling generous after reading the comments.
> 
> Love you guys! Keep commenting and leave a kudos!


	8. I Have Magic, a Prophesy, and a Headache All Before Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy tuna! 100 kudos?! Thank you guys!! I was going to wait until tomorrow, but then I saw all the kudos and couldn't help myself!

Harry awoke early, dreading the day. Today was the day they decided whether he stayed at Hogwarts or not. What would he do if he was expelled? They would snap his wand. How would he defend himself from Voldemort then?

A cloud of depression followed Harry as he padded down the stairs, careful not to wake the painting in the hallway. The last thing he needed was waking Ed and starting another screaming match with the infamous Mrs. Black. The last one still had his ears ringing a bit.

To his surprise, he found he wasn’t the only one awake when he reached the kitchen. 

“‘Morning, Bedhead,” Ed grinned. 

Harry blinked. Was he so out of it that he didn’t even notice Ed’s bed was empty?

Apparently. 

“‘Morning.” 

His voice sounded strained and hollow, even to his own ears. Ed frowned. 

“Oh, don’t twist your knickers. You know they won’t expel you.”

Harry smiled at the botched saying. 

“What makes you so sure?” he shot back, relaxing a little into the familiar banter. 

Ed scoffed, “‘Cause they’d be stupid to. I’ll be there, after Bumblebee takes me to some mystery place to try and figure out the anomaly that is me,” a low chuckle escaped the boy, “if he can.”

Harry liked Ed well enough, but sometimes the older boy scared him. Now was one of those times. Ed had a positively devious smirk on his face. 

“Now now, enough talking and eat your breakfast,” Mrs. Weasley admonished. 

Ed obliged, but Harry could barely swallow through his nerves, much less eat, so the Boy Who Lived became the Boy Who Stared Forlornly at His Plate that morning. 

 

 

Harry left with Arthur moments before Dumbledore arrived to pick up Ed. 

“You know, old man, you should probably tell Harry why you’re avoiding him. He’s getting pissed.”

Dumbledore stared down at the boy in front of him, before quickly averting his gaze. Ed scoffed. _‘The idiot. He clearly doesn’t want a repeat experience. Wonder what he saw?’_

 

 

 

Ed was determined to never take an arm again. That apparating trick was convenient, but definitely not okay with his port remnants, and he followed after Dumbledore with a decided limp. They swept down hallways in the vast building, up stairs and down stairs until Ed lost all sense of direction.

Honestly, he wasn’t paying attention to where they were going, too busy looking around at all the wonders to bother. 

He asked questions of a few things, the flying paper, the outfits, the windows, the outfits, the random meter-long lizard, and the outfits. 

Did he mention everyone was wearing a dress?

Dumbledore answered his questions with a knowing smile that was really starting to get on Ed’s nerves.

Finally, they stopped in front of a door in the middle of a hallway. With a quick glance at Ed, Dumbledore grasped the handle, opening the door to the Department of Mysteries.

Ed just stared around in awe at all the fascinating things around him, Dumbledore expertly navigating the rooms after poking his head through a number of doors and then slamming them shut without a moment's hesitation. The rooms that Dumbledore ignored were a room with a vat of what looked suspiciously like brains, a room full of clocks, a room full of dancing lizards, and a room with a stage and an arch. Ed was thankful that Dumbledore didn't lead him through the arch room, because the air was heavy and reminded him a little bit of his time in Gluttony's stomach. When Dumbledore finally stopped, Ed was a little disappointed to see that they had stopped in an office. 

Not a cool, magical office, but a boring, one-desk-one-occupant-nothing-else-at-all kind of office. It reminded him of Roy’s office.

Basically, after everything he had seen, Ed was less than impressed. 

“Hello, Mr. Monkstanley,” Dumbledore greeted the man behind the desk. 

He was older, but not as old as Dumbledore. A little more than middle-aged, but less than elderly, he had short, dark hair with tufts poking up on either side of his head and large spectacles that, coupled with his hair, made him seem a little owlish. 

“Dumbledore,” he replied, and Ed was a little surprised at the deepness of his voice. It was deeper than Major Armstrong’s, if that were possible. “I take it this is the boy in question.”

Dumbledore nodded in response. 

“Very well,” Monkstanley stated gruffly, “Let us get on with it.” The man pulled a cloak covered in pink lizards around his shoulders and gestured for Dumbledore and his unique guest to follow him.

Ed glanced between the two as they headed out the door before reluctantly following. _‘Are all adult wizards bonkers?’_

Ed followed them into a large room with shelves higher than the Wall of Briggs, filled with rows upon rows of bright blue balls that seemed to glow and twirl in their own right. 

Ed glanced around in wonder, still not sure what he was seeing. Each ball had a small plaque underneath, so he read one. _Lacerta the Lizard Qween._

“Edward.”

His attention back on the two men and away from the bizarre title, he strode over to the shelf they stood in front of. With a nod from Dumbledore, Ed glanced at the ball in front of them, and did a double take at the name underneath it. A little plaque on the shelf read “Golden Thunderbird? And Truth”. 

Dumbledore had heard that Ed was from a place called Amestris, and according to his friend Nicholas, Amestris was a country in the legendary Isle of Xeno. He hoped that the golden thunderbird was referring to Ed, because the Truth that haunted him ever since attempting Legilimency with Ed was definitely the Truth in the prophecy, if the voice he heard could be trusted.

With a hesitant glance at Dumbledore, Ed reached up and grabbed the ball, lifting it easily from its rest. Monkstanley muttered a few words, waving his personalized stick around before the ball began to speak in a strained, choked voice, **“The golden thunderbird brings destruction in his wake, forging forth to pay his debt. With the body restored, debt repaid, and Father vanquished, his first quest is complete. To restore what is lost, the second quest: the soul of snake must be made whole to be made dead, and only then will Truth be appeased.”**

The boy stood rooted to the spot, his expression blank. Suddenly, without warning, he snapped, shouting in a language his audience knew not. 

“Damnit, Truth! Is this all I get?! This is my ‘other quest’, right?! Give me something more than a talking, glowing ball, you bastard! If you lay one finger on Al, you’re toast, you hear me?!”

The boy paled as a mad cackle came from the orb in his hands, ‘Oh really, Mr. Alchemist? You and what toaster?’

Recoiling, Ed dropped the orb like it burned him. Only Dumbledore’s inhuman reflexes saved it before it hit the ground, where it would have broken into a pile of glass. Cautiously handing the orb back to the young blonde, the wizard raised an eyebrow in question.

Ed fidgeted, avoiding eye contact. Dumbledore became more suspicious.

“What had you so startled, Edward?”

Ed glanced up at Dumbledore before staring down at the glowing ball in his hands, a scowl slowly creeping up on his face, “You didn’t hear him, then?” he asked, chancing a glance back at Dumbledore.

To Ed’s irritation, the man shook his head.

Ed huffed, “Well, I heard another voice, and he responded to what I said, in Amestrian.”

“That has never happened before. No prophecy has ever been recorded with two voices, much less a voice that _responds_.”  Monkstanley sounded worried, a fearful waver that didn’t fit his deep voice flitting about his words.

Ed glanced up to see both men staring at him intently, clearly wanting an explanation. He sighed. _‘Why me?’_

“I don’t know about the first voice, but the second was Truth, or God, if you will. He’s a dirty, rotten bastard, but you can’t beat him, he’s the gatekeeper of Equivalent Exchange itself,” he dragged his hand down his face in exasperation, “Anyone know this snake guy the bastard wants dead?” he asked. 

“Who-know-who?” Monkstanley asked fear fully evident in his words now, despite the depth of his voice. 

“No, I don’t. Why do you think I’m asking?”

“Calm yourself, Edward,” Dumbledore soothed, finally shaking himself out of the funk the prophecy and Ed’s words induced. He held out a hand and Ed obediently dropped the prophecy in it. Studying the orb, he explained, “He is referring to Voldemort. Most do not speak his name.”

Ed’s eyes widened. He supposed that made sense. Mr. Moldy splits his soul, he stays alive, comes back, effectively unkillable. He frowned. This was going to be tricky. If he was dealing with souls, did Truth expect him to perform human transmutation again? No way, he learned his lesson. Never again. He had already seen the gate four times, ingesting information of the world each time, that was how he knew other continents existed beyond the sea. He didn’t like the fact that Truth could talk to him through that ball. After three years, he had hoped Truth had decided he didn’t actually need him anymore, that the cryptic warning he received that day had been for nothing. 

Darn his luck. 

“You know what it means?” Dumbledore asked, staring him in the eye again.

Ed glanced away before Truth attacked the man through his mind again.

“Yeah, it’s an order from a superior I can’t refuse. Guess my research will have to wait a bit.”

“But what does it _mean_?” Dumbledore asked again, pressing for a straight answer. 

Ed glared, “It means God doesn’t trust you wand wavers to off the guy, so he wants me to stop him before he ends up in Truth’s domain,” he shrugged, waving his hand flippantly, “I’ve done it before with other guys, it’ll be no sweat. I’ve kind of become Truth’s lackey, which sucks, but at least he gives me partial treatment.”

A snicker came from the orb in Dumbledore’s hand, but Ed pointedly ignored it. 

“I suppose this confirms he’s got magic,” Monkstanley grunted, “The prophecies don’t respond to non-magic blood.”

Dumbledore nodded, but before he could respond, an owl landed on his shoulder. 

“What the heck?!” Ed yelled, startled at the sudden appearance. 

Dumbledore took the message and read it quickly, his expression darkening into one of anger, before smoothing to determination. 

“Come, Ed. We must hurry,” he said, turning to leave. 

“The prophecy, Dumbledore?” Monkstanley prompted. 

The man paused, handing the orb to a reluctant Ed. 

“It is yours. Guard it well.”

Stuffing the object in his pocket in the hopes of drowning out Truth’s cackle, he followed the wizard out of the mysterious department.


	9. Magical Law is a Joke and so is My Patience

“You’re late.”

Harry really wanted to punch something.

 

 

 

“Du-Dumbledore!  I suppose you received our owl.”

The man chuckled, “I was already at the Ministry for other business, so the owl reached me in record time, though I must say he rather startled my companion.”

 

 

 

“Dementors? In Little Whinging?”

 

 

 

“Could I bring in a witness?”

 

 

 

“Well, you’re all idiots,” Ed stated as soon as he sat down in the chintz chair waiting for him, having heard everything from the hall outside, where he and Mr. Weasley had been listening in.

Harry stared at Ed, flabbergasted like the rest of them. 

“Except you. I like you,” he stated, pointing to Madame Bones. 

“What gives you the right-!” Fudge started but was interrupted by the alchemist. 

“I have every right, as an ambassador to this country, to voice my opinion on its government, although this is only a department, not the Parliament.”

A few wizards and witches tensed, their status under the British government a sore subject. 

“An ambassador from where exactly?” a wizard in green asked. 

“Xeno.”

That one word started a practical riot. 

“There is no such place!”

“The boy is spinning lies!”

“Using a legend to explain away his behavior!”

“He does have the golden aspects of the legend,” Madame Bones pointed out. 

This made everyone pause to stare at him, as he held his ground defiantly. 

Fudge scoffed, “This merely confirms his dishonesty! That eye color can only mean one thing! He is a werewolf!”

Murmuring started up again and Ed rolled his eyes. 

“Wasn’t last night a full moon? How would I be standing here in this condition if I were a werewolf?”

The murmuring paused before starting up again in full. 

Dumbledore stayed quiet, watching the boy, and Harry was too stunned and nervous to speak up. 

“We are getting off topic. We are supposed to be discussing Harry’s breach of magical law.”

Ed smirked at the minister’s attempts to focus again on Harry. 

“If I may, Minister,” Ed interjected, his tone laced with sarcasm, “I would like to take this moment to ask if you have seen a dementor before.”

Fudge shuddered, which was all the answer Ed needed. 

“If so, then you would understand the need to conjure a patronus upon meeting one in a dark alley. As such, the question is not whether he should have used magic, but rather whether there were dementors present.”

A few heads nodded, and Fudge stayed silent, so Ed continued.

“As this was my first encounter with such creatures, I cannot describe anything but what I saw. As I was walking Harry and his lump of a cousin-” Harry snickered, despite the situation. Or maybe it was the nerves making it funnier, “-through the alley, it started getting cold. I don’t often encounter cold, raised in Resembool, so it was a bit of a surprise, especially since it came so quickly. On either end of the alley, I saw large black masses. It was dark, as the lights had vanished, but the fat idiot-“ another snicker, “-ran straight towards one of the things before collapsing. As any soldier would do when threatened, I stood between the threat and the civilians with me and punched it in the face.”

Another roar rang through the room as various people voiced their disbelief. Ed raised his arms placatingly.

“I know, I know. I found out later that I’m not supposed to be able to touch the things, but my country isn’t supposed to exist, according to you people, either.”

There were some who looked thoughtful, but most in the room were still very much so indignant. 

“So, after I touch the thing, it . . .” Ed broke off, remembering the feeling, “it...  pulled on my soul. I’ve never felt something so harsh, but I have felt my soul ripped out before, so I know the feeling, and before you ask, don’t.”

His audience, despite their status, squirmed at the look he gave. 

“When I felt that,” he continued, “everything went blank. Not dark, like when you pass out, just blank. I couldn’t move, couldn’t feel anything except cold, couldn’t think... Then everything I had tried so hard to forget, every horror I’ve endured, I relived... Not entirely sure how I stayed sane to be honest. Hell, I’m not sure I am sane. I woke up in Harry’s room. He had brought me back to his place and gave me some chocolate chips, and somehow the blasted things worked. I know chocolate is a comfort food, but that stuff’s ridiculous,” he turned to Harry, “They were regular chocolate chips, right? Not some fancy magic something?”

Harry nodded dumbly, and Ed turned back to their audience. 

“There you have it folks. If Harry hadn’t saved me and his cousin, we’d be worse than dead.”

His last statement rang through the air, heavy and reverberating. 

“What is your name?” the one he liked asked. 

On reflex, he answered, “Colonel Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist and State Alchemist Researcher and Ambassador,” remembering too late that he had yet to mention alchemy to anyone on the continent.

“Alchemist?” Fudge questioned, “No one has mastered the art but the late Nicholas Flamel! Even Dumbledore merely dabbled, but you claim to be an alchemist of your State?”

Ed rolled his eyes. Flamel didn’t count in his opinion. Anyone who made a stone shouldn’t count as a human, much less an alchemist.

With the flair he was renowned for, Ed stood, whipping out a bit of chalk he carried in case of emergencies. After all the times he was incapable of clapping, he decided to be safe, rather than sorry. Kneeling in front of the podium, Ed drew the circle he needed effortlessly, sigils and symbols filling the space. With a glance up at his incredulous audience, he placed a finger on the circle.

“Alchemy,” he stated, before activating the circle.

What arose from the ground was a globe, detailed in its political boundaries, but incorrect according to the textbooks, based on the extra continent in the North Sea.

“This is Xeno, right here,” Ed explained, “The whole continent sits in a rift of spacetime, probably because of all the alchemy. Haven’t really figured out that puzzle yet.”

Edward glanced up at the Wizengamot to see them all staring gobsmacked at his transmutation.

“And you are an ambassador from Xeno?” Madame Bones asked, breaking the silence.

Many people leaned forward, eager to hear about the legend. 

Ed frowned, considering, “Well, not really. Xeno is the continent. I hail from Amestris, a little country in the middle of the continent,” he explained. 

“Why is it no one has travelled here until now?” Fudge asked, skeptical. 

Ed rolled his eyes, “Judging from my first impression of the government, you really think my people want to come here?”

A few witches and wizards had the decency to look sheepish. 

“Hem hem.”

Ed looked at the toad-like witch, wondering briefly if she was a chimera. 

“You need a cough drop, lady?”

When Umbridge widened her eyes, the effect was comical on her toad face. 

“What proof do you have that you are from this fictional island?” 

Ed scowled. He did not like this woman. With a flick of his wrist, he sent an envelope soaring through the air like a boomerang to land in front of Fudge.

“If my display is not enough, you’ll find a letter from our führer in there. I hope it will clear any misunderstandings.”

After a few moments of silence, Harry’s nerves got the better of him. 

“So, am I free to go?”

Fudge suddenly came to life, waving his hands and yelling, “Yes, yes, you’re free to go!” 

Not needing to be told twice, Harry darted off to head back with Arthur. Ed stayed where he was, waiting for the minister to speak. The man gave him a hard glare, but compared to the Iron Wall of Briggs, it was a puppy look, complete with rainbows and butterflies. 

“Come to my office,” Fudge ordered, gathering his pages and sweeping them into a briefcase. 

Edward dutifully followed behind the man as they left, dimly noticing that Dumbledore had left at some point. Flanked on both sides by ministry officials, Ed strode behind the minister, leaving wondering where Dumbledore went to for another time. 

 

 

 

The pink toad lady followed them into Fudge’s office, settling herself into a chair to the side with familiarity.

The minister didn’t seem to notice.

Ed’s eyebrows raised as he slid into his own chair facing the desk. His eyebrows stayed raised throughout most of the conversation. 

 

 

 

Dumbledore jumped as the door to the minister’s office banged open, but he would never admit that. 

The seething demon in the doorway spotted him, then turned and yelled into the room he had just left in such a temper, “YOU BETTER BE PREPARED FOR WAR, FUDGE BUCKETS, BECAUSE YOU ARE SURE ASKING FOR IT!”

Tremors shook the walls for several seconds after he slammed the door behind him. Ed stomped up to Dumbledore. 

“Let’s go, old man. You lot aren’t the brightest, but you are a damn inferno compared to those sparks.”

Dumbledore chuckled, “I take it diplomacy is not your style.”

“Like hell it is, gramps,” the blonde grumbled, “But those two are too much. After grilling me about my personal life, insulting me all the way, mind you, they then tried getting me to spill state secrets! What bastards! They even had the audacity to spike my drink with something, I’m guessing veritaserum, but I’m not sure, I can’t tell by the taste, I just sensed it. Fat load of good it did them, though, because apparently I’m immune.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the boy. He had never heard of someone immune to veritaserum. Then again, he had never seen wandless magic like the alchemy the boy did earlier either.

Ed pulled the prophecy out of his pocket, glaring at it, “That’s your doing, though, isn’t it, Truth?”

Dumbledore turned to the boy, wondering why he was talking to the orb, when the orb cackled again. 

‘Are you not going to thank me, Mr. Alchemist? I have protected your mind from outside attacks since you first visited me, your brother as well. No one may see Truth without paying a toll.’

Ed sighed. 

“That’s not going to make you many friends. Thanks, though, I guess. It helps me as much as it protects you.”

The orb gasped, ‘You thanked me! Maybe I do have friends after all!’

Ed grinned, wryly, “Yeah, I did. And while I’m at it, thanks for giving Al back.”

The orb was silent, Ed quiet, and Dumbledore just let them be as they left, having been unable to hear Truth’s voice. It slightly worried the old man, the fact that the boy could speak to some entity called “Truth” through a prophecy, which should, by all rights, be impossible. Could it be his alchemy? He would have to keep a close eye on this prophecy… and the boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMGoodness, I thoroughly enjoyed writing Ed and Umbridge interact, but that was the only thing I enjoyed about this chapter. I rewrote it like, four times.


	10. My Soul Gets a Little Crowded

DBack at Grimmauld Place, there was a party to celebrate Harry getting off, as well as Ron and Hermione becoming prefects, as their Hogwarts letters came when Harry had come back with the news. Ed mingled a bit, mostly talking with Lupin about the finer points of lycanthropy. It amused him, but the color of his eyes led Remus to think that Ed was a werewolf. Ed didn’t mind, in fact, he was sure his research into chimeras would benefit from the information, not that he would ever tell Lupin that. He wasn’t _that_ insensitive. While he and Lupin talked, he noticed Harry in his peripheral vision. The boy was in the corner, leaning against the wall, clearly brooding.

Ed knew a thing or two about brooding. He had mastered it when he was eight after all.

“Hey, Remus?” Ed started, interrupting the man, “What’s up with Harry?”

Remus turned to see what Ed was referring to as Sirius sidled up to the boy. Remus frowned. He knew why Sirius had been morose. If Harry hadn’t been cleared, then he would have stayed with him at the Black house. He supposed his friend was just a little disappointed that he wouldn’t get to keep his godson with him. Sadly, Remus knew it was for the best. Sirius seemed to treat Harry more like James than like Harry, and it worried him a bit.

“Well?” Ed prompted, pulling the lycanthrope from his thoughts.

“I don’t know, but it may have something to do with Sirius.”

Ed merely looked at him, clearly wanting an elaboration. Lupin sighed.

“You know Harry doesn’t like it at his relatives. Can’t say I blame him, I suppose, but it is for his safety. Sirius had told him he could stay with him if he was expelled. I suppose they are both a little disappointed that Harry wouldn’t be staying.”

Ed nodded in understanding at the explanation. If he had been given the chance to stay with Al when the other option was staying with General Bastard, he figured he would be a little disappointed to lose the opportunity as well.

From his vantage point, he saw Sirius nudge Harry’s shoulder, and the boy smiled, so he assumed that everything was all right. The man was a little awkward in social interactions, but he knew Sirius was kind, so he could cheer Harry up easily. Tired from his long day at the Ministry and still not totally over the boggart incident the day previous, Ed said his goodnights and headed up the stairs.

 

 

 

Harry felt so relieved. His pep talk with Sirius had definitely helped him get over his jealousy. He really liked the idea of Sirius homeschooling him if he wanted to rebel and leave Hogwarts on strike, but he knew it was an empty offer. They both knew Harry would never leave. Though, Sirius could probably teach him a lot of auror stuff he wouldn’t learn at school. Glancing up to see Ed heading up the stairs, his train of thought derailed to the hearing from earlier and the information he discovered.

“By the way, Sirius,” Harry asked, “What do you know of alchemy?”

Sirius frowned, confused at the sudden change of topic. “Not much. Remus probably knows more than I. I know he looked into it a bit for… reasons.”

Harry nodded, understanding what ‘reasons’ meant. “Thanks.”

With a final nod to his godfather, Harry crossed the room over to Lupin.

“Hey, professor Lupin?” he asked.

“I’m not a professor anymore, Harry.” Remus replied, setting his glass on the table. If Harry had come to him to be cheered up, he was going to give him his undivided attention.

“Right, sorry. Anyway, what do you know of alchemy?”

Lupin blinked, not having expected the question.

“Well, as I understand it, it is the art dedicated to the creation of gold and the Elixir of Life through the Philosopher’s Stone.”

Harry nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. “That’s what I thought.”

“Whatever brought on the question?” Lupin asked, curious.

Harry turned back to him, eyes wide. After years with James and Sirius, Remus could spot a guilty look a kilometer away.

“What did you do, Harry?” Lupin asked, his voice stern.

“Nothing, I swear!” the boy hastened to assure him, “Ed had mentioned that his boggart had something to do with alchemy, and he said he was an alchemist at the hearing today. He did some really cool wandless magic, so I wondered if that had anything to do with alchemy.”

The werewolf blinked in confusion. He had looked into alchemy with the idea that the Elixir of Life could possibly cure him, but it had proven a fruitless venture. He had no idea how the monster Ed’s boggart was could possibly be related to alchemy, and to his knowledge, alchemy had nothing to do with wandless magic.

“I’m not sure how the two could be related. I’ll ask Dumbledore. He knows a lot more of alchemy than I do.”

Harry nodded, satisfied. With a wave and a thanks, he left the past professor to his thoughts, heading over to Ron to properly congratulate him.

 

 

 

Ed was nervous. The mighty Dumbledore wished to speak with him. He just knew this had something to with the bomb he dropped at the hearing. _‘Hi, I’m Ed, and I’m a powerful alchemist!’_

Pulling the prophesy from his pocket where he kept it, he asked Truth, “Any idea what the wizard wants?”

‘You are a gifted child, by this world’s standards. Can you not figure it out?’

Ed rolled his eyes. “So, you don’t know either?”

Ed could practically hear the scowl on Truth’s face.

‘Whether I know or not is no concern of yours, human.’

“Whatever you say, Truth.” Ed smirked, “By the way, is Al’s theory correct? About the rift in reality from Father’s creation, I mean.” He asked.

‘Who can say?’ The being replied. Ed sighed, pocketing the blue sphere.

Tromping down the stairs, Ed bounded into the entryway where Dumbledore was waiting for him.

“What’s up, old man?” he asked, glad that his English had improved so much.

Dumbledore smiled, motioning to a room down the hall, “Won’t you join me? We can discuss this in private.”

Ed nodded, marching off in the direction the man indicated. He picked a room that he and the teens had already cleaned and plopped down into one of the overstuffed chairs.

“So, what’s all the secrecy about, old man?” Ed asked as Dumbledore settled himself into a chair.

He noticed that Dumbledore wouldn’t look him in the eye anymore, and he suppressed a chuckle.

_‘At least the guy learns from his mistakes.’_

“As we have learned from your prophecy, you have magic.”

Ed nodded, relenting.

“And from what transpired at Harry’s hearing, you practice alchemy as well.”

Ed looked away, “I really didn’t mean to surprise you like that. I kinda forgot that I hadn’t mentioned it, and it sorta slipped out.”

“I should have known already,” Dumbledore smiled, “You wear the flamel.” He stated in answer to the unasked question.

“So, what?” Ed snapped. “Our alchemy is different anyway. The alchemy in your books is so depraved and far from what is practiced in my home that it is laughable. Do not assume that I will start spewing gold, and the Elixir of Life is a load of crap. Doesn’t exist.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

“Then how did my friend Nicholas live for so long?”

Ed snorted. “My guess? Either he was a selfish bastard that didn’t mind sacrificing lives to prolong his own, or, like my old man, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

The wizard frowned, not appreciating the way Ed was speaking of his late friend.

“You remind me of Nicholas. He was also cryptic.” Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed, wondering. “He also had golden hair and eyes.”

At Ed’s reaction, realization spread across the man’s features. “You know of him? ‘Like my old man’ you said. Was Nicholas your father?”

Ed grumbled, his response unintelligible.

_‘That bastard wasn’t at mom’s funeral because he was halfway ‘round the world getting chummy with this guy?!’_

“Edward?”

“Yeah, whatever,” he relented, “He probably was. You got a picture of him?”

Dumbledore pulled out his wand and waved it through the air for a bit. Slowly, a picture of a man began to form, and Ed would recognize those golden eyes anywhere.

“I apologize for the poor quality of my memory. I have not seen him since he asked I destroy his stone several years ago.”

“WHAT?!” Ed shrieked, jumping from his chair. “What the hell was the bastard _thinking?_ How could he abandon those souls so easily?” he pulled the prophecy from his pocket. “Truth, did you know about this?” he demanded of the orb.

‘I suggest you speak with the crazy, old man.’

Ed would never admit it, but he was grateful that he could speak with Truth without anyone hearing him or having to perform human transmutation. It was nice to speak in his people’s tongue for a while, and he had to admit, the bastard shared his sense of humor.

“Alright, old man,” Ed said, sliding back into his chair, trying to keep himself calm, “Explain.”

Ed listened while Dumbledore explained how his old friend Nicholas had given him what he assumed to be the stone, telling him to keep it safe for a year, then shatter the stone. He hid the stone, first in Gringotts, then in Hogwarts, until a year had passed, and he could destroy it. To Dumbledore’s annoyance, he couldn’t damage it at all. He tried everything he could think of, finally deciding to keep it on his person and tell people it had been destroyed.

Ed snorted. “He told you to break it, but he didn’t tell you how?”

Dumbledore nodded.

“Ha! That’s just like the guy! I’ll bet he left it here in case Father made it off the continent. You still got the thing then?” he asked.

In response, Dumbledore pulled a red stone from his pocket. Ed recognized it immediately. That was the power that had initially made him wary of the man. He held his right hand open in question, and Dumbledore reluctantly placed the stone in his palm. To the shock of both men, the stone liquified, melting into Ed’s skin.

“What the- “

Searing pain fled through Ed’s veins, hundreds of voices filling his mind, screaming. Slowly, the pain and screaming subsided.

‘ _You are not Hohenheim. How did you acquire us_?’ a harsh voice asked him in Xerxesian, inside his own mind.

“Uuuuhhhh…”

Ed had no clue what to say or do. Vaguely, he was aware of a few more voices asking questions, but he was trying to process what had just happened.

‘ _Are you… are you Xerxesians_?’ he asked.

‘ _If we were not, why would we speak the language_?’ the harsh voice answered.

‘ _Stay quiet, Markos, can’t you see he is distraught? Who wouldn’t be after having his soul invaded by a few hundred people_?’ a feminine voice reprimanded.

‘ _Did you come from my father_?’ Ed asked, slowly getting the hang of listening to the voices speaking to him.

‘ _Hohenheim was a good friend to us._ ’ Came the feminine voice again.

 _‘ We all know he was more than a friend to you, Zena._’ a quiet, masculine voice quipped.

Somehow, Ed could feel the pain from Zena’s soul.

‘ _That is none of your concern, Gregor_.’ Zena fired back.

‘ _Okay, wait, wait, slow down ,’_ Ed pleaded, overwhelmed. ‘ _So, you did come from my father’s stone? How did you end up here_?’

He could sense Zena hushing the rest, and he was immensely thankful.

 _‘ You see, child,’_ she explained, ‘ _Your father had travelled outside of your continent in his younger years, shortly after Xerxes fell, trying to undo the horror than befell our people. When he realized what the Dwarf in the Flask was trying to accomplish, he came back to Amestris and tasked some of us with helping him to save the country, as he was incapable of doing for Xerxes. As a last resort, he left us here, in Dumbledore’s care, in case his plan did not work. When Dumbledore broke the stone after Hohenheim was back in Amestris, we would have been free to roam. When we were created, a barrier was erected around the continent, effectively cutting it off from the world. Should the Dwarf escape the barrier he inadvertently created, we would be ready and waiting to stop him here. Unfortunately, the man he entrusted us with didn’t know the first thing about us. You are the first to hear us since your father.’_

“Edward? What happened?”

Ed was shaken from the inner conversation when Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he jumped back, red, alchemic light zapping at the man’s hand until it retreated.

“Do you know what the stone was made of?” Ed asked.

“Nicholas refused to tell me, despite our long friendship.”

Ed laughed. “I’m not surprised. The last person that he knew held the secret was a dear friend as well, and that monster caused the deaths of everyone he knew.”

Dumbledore really couldn’t think of a good response to that, so he said nothing.

“I guess the best way to describe it is that I absorbed the stone into myself, but it has a life and mind of its own, so I have to kinda talk to it?” His explanation ended as more of a question as Ed realized how ridiculous it sounded, but Dumbledore merely nodded.

“I had wondered, on occasion, if that might not be the case. The stone seemed to think for itself a little more than an inanimate object should.” The old man explained.

 _‘ We may not be able to move or speak in the stone, but we are not inanimate.’_ The one called Zena said.

 _‘ I figured,’_ Ed replied, ‘ _I’m not really used to this yet, so I don’t know how to let you out …’_

 _‘ Do not worry, child. We have waited centuries. We can wait more.’_ The voice Zena called Gregor said.

_‘ We will help you to adjust. My name is Zena. The other two are Gregor and Markos. They are both idiots, so you may ignore them.’_

_‘ HEY!’_

Ed clutched his head as pain erupted behind his eyes at the soul’s volume. Arguing voices ran rampant through his mind, until he had had enough.

“ _SHUT UP!”_

“Edward?” Harry asked.

Ed opened his eyes to realize that he had shouted aloud, with his luck, while Dumbledore had been speaking.

Also, they had an audience.

This was awkward.

“Sorry, they were… I wasn’t talking to you.” He knew that made him sound crazy, but he had a few hundred extra souls. He figured sounding crazy was better than actually going crazy at this point. Dumbledore and the teenagers in the doorway would just have to deal with it.

“What happened, Ed?” Harry asked from the door. His dwindling trust in Dumbledore took a sharp hit when he, Ron and Hermione had walked passed the room. Ed was in trouble, and the Headmaster was to blame.

_‘I can totally relate, Ed.’_

“Nothing to worry about,” Ed assured them as they approached, “I will get it sorted. Sorry, old man, but I need to rest. I’ll be upstairs, somewhere.” With that, Edward sidled passed the worried, watching teens to vanish upstairs.

“What happened, Professor?” Harry asked, turning back to Dumbledore, only to see that the old wizard was gone. “Of course. Naturally, he can’t be bothered to stick around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue what just happened. It happened on its own. I literally don't even know.
> 
> Either way, long chapter.


	11. My Future is Decided for Me. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy carp! 150 kudos! Thank you so much guys! Y'all are amazing!

Upstairs, in his favorite chair in the Black library, Ed sat and talked with the Xerxesians for hours. They had centuries of knowledge that he could explore, and he couldn’t wait. The three he spoke to were the strongest souls in the stone, so he mostly spoke with them. Having been locked in the stone for years, some of the weaker souls had already faded away into nothing but energy.

A knock brought him out of his head. Sirius grinned at him from his vantage point by a bookcase.

“I know you get lost in books, but lost in your own head? That’s new. Everything okay?”

Ed explained what had happened, having found a kindred spirit in the man over the past week. The two were becoming fast friends, despite their differences.

“I knew something was up when Harry asked about you, but Merlin’s beard, that’s a lot.”

Ed nodded, exhausted. He reached into his pocket to grab his watch, wanting to check the time, but his hand closed around the prophecy in his pocket by accident. Belatedly, he realized he had reached into the wrong pocket in his distracted state of mind, but the red sparks of alchemic energy were enough to distract him further.

“Ed, what’s going on?” Sirius cried as wind whipped out of nowhere, the zap and red light exposed when Ed pulled the glass orb from his pocket. “You have a prophecy?!”

Ed didn’t bother to answer as his senses were overloaded. His vision was nothing but red, all he could hear was the crack of energy, and the tang of ozone coated his tongue from the transmutation he never activated. There was a quick pull in the middle of his chest that jerked him forward, and red sparks danced down his arm, his mouth open in a silent scream.

As quickly as it started, the exchange stopped, and Edward realized with a growing dread: the Xerxesian souls were gone.

“ _Zena?! Markos?! Gregor_?!”

“ _Edward_?”

Ed sighed in relief. The souls weren’t gone. They had somehow been sucked into the prophecy.

“ _Mr. Alchemist, why are there a few hundred ancient souls in our communication ball_?”

“ _You speak Xerxesian? Never mind, not important. Um… so the bastard did something_.” Ed started, unsure how to explain this to Truth without losing a limb or two.

“ _Which bastard? You have several_.” Truth snarked back.

Ed grinned. _‘Okay, he’s in a good mood.’_

“ _My dad. Basically, he left them here to keep Father in check if he ever made it off the continent_.” Ed explained.

Truth scoffed. “ _How pointless. The whole point of my rift in reality was to keep Father from spreading out further. He couldn’t have left that continent if he tried_.”

“Ha! I knew he had something to do with it!” Ed shouted triumphantly at Sirius.

When he looked up, he realized that the three friends had found him as well. He tucked the orb back in his pocket, and as his skin left the surface of the orb, the voices ceased.

“Ed?” Harry asked, uncertain.

“Sorry,” Ed said, shaking thoughts out of his head, “What’s up?”

Sirius answered, “You just sat there conversing with a prophecy in a different language.”

Ed nodded, “Yeah, apparently, they’re not supposed to be able to do that.”

The group simply stared.

 

 

The next morning, Ed tromped down the stairs to the heavenly smell of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking. He was in a chipper mood, despite having stayed up until the wee hours of the morning. He spent hours talking to the Xerxesian souls, and he had learned so much. Apparently, his father and Zena had been a thing. That was a little weird to think about, considering her soul was inside him when he had kids with someone else, but she assured him that Hohenheim had left her piece of the stone in England long before he met Trisha.

Ed still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He couldn’t imagine the pain he would feel if that happened to Winry.

The two spent hours talking about their respective loves, thoroughly boring poor Markos, but Gregor enjoyed listening, having lost his own wife before the stone’s creation.

Now, Ed was whistling as he meandered downstairs, the prophecy neatly tucked into a pocket sealed shut with alchemy, so it wouldn’t get lost.

“-shouldn’t have it! What if Harry starts catching on?”

Ed recognized the sounds of Molly fighting with Sirius in the kitchen, but before he could eavesdrop, a bald, wrinkly, _thing_ slinked around the corner, darted past him in a blur, and burst into the kitchen.

Naturally, Ed followed.

“Kreacher, you slimy little git! You left slugs in my bed last night!” Sirius cried, diving at the elf that was scuttling to his nest.

“The Gryffindor filth deserved it for the dishonor he has brought to the Noble House of Black!”

Ed watched, both amused and flummoxed as the elf wriggled out of Sirius’ reach and hid in a small cupboard. Sirius, his fight with Molly forgotten, noticed Ed in the doorway as he straightened from his sudden lunge.

“Edward! Come on in! Molly’s making breakfast,” Sirius said, waving him over.

Molly turned, bringing a pan of sizzling sausages to the table. “I’ve got some eggs and toast too, love. Eat quickly so we can get an early start. It’d be nice if we could beat the crowds.”

Ed glanced quizzically at Sirius, but the man was busy glaring at the cupboard that hid the house elf’s nest, so he couldn’t catch his eye.

“What do you mean an early start? Are we going somewhere?” Ed ventured.

Molly continued pattering about the kitchen. “Of course, dear, didn’t Dumbledore tell you? We’ve got to pick up your supplies for class.”

Ed dropped his fork.

“ _Class?!_ No way am I going to school! I’m not some kid!” he protested.

Sirius laughed. “You’re teaching the class, not taking it. I guess Dumbledore didn’t get the chance to talk to you about it yesterday?”

Ed shook his head, appeased a little knowing he wasn’t taking any classes. “He didn’t get the chance after the stone fiasco.”

“Well, you are still going to teach alchemy, aren’t you? Dumbledore said you were a master of the art in your home country, though how you can be a master of anything so young I haven’t the foggiest. He said you’d just love the library; Hermione certainly loves the place. It’s the largest magical library in existence. With all the time you spend hiding in the Black library, I’m sure you could find some interesting things to study,” Molly prattled, barely pausing to breathe, let alone give Ed the time to answer her question, “We should be able to get everything you need in Diagon Alley, although I’ll admit, I don’t know the first thing about what you need for alchemy. It would be a huge help to have someone go with me though. I need to get the children’s supplies as well. Luckily, we only have four to pay for this year, but Hermione will have so many books, and Ron is getting a broom. That’s going to cost a pretty Knut.”

She continued muttering to herself about everything on her shopping list as she left to wake the children to give them chores to do while she was gone.

Ed glanced at Sirius. “I guess you’re a professor now, Ed.”

Ed sighed. These wizards really knew how to drive a hard bargain. The largest magical library in the world would be a sad opportunity to lose. If Harry was so closely tied to Voldemort, his mission, should he choose to accept it, would probably be easier if he stuck close to Harry.

“I guess I am.”


	12. Goblins Are Rude, and I Don’t Like Mines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am late in posting, and I am sorry. I was sick. Please forgive me.

A half hour later, Edward found himself riding the most atrocious mode of magical transportation ever invented, and he rode cleaning equipment to Grimmauld Place.

Molly insisted that they were perfectly safe, but Ed’s knuckles were whiter than a blizzard at Briggs from his death grip on the railings as the Knight Bus careened down the pavement. When the abominable shuttle finally let him escape, Ed was off that thing faster than you could say, “transmutation”. Pausing to catch his breath while Mrs. Weasley paid their fare, Ed vowed to never trust a wizard with transportation again. He was going to take the damn train to the Pigpimples school, even if he had to transmute one himself.

He hoisted his bag a little higher on his shoulder and followed Mrs. Weasley into the dingy little pub that was apparently where they would do their shopping? Ed was confused.

“Mrs. Weasley! Good to see you. Good to see you. Here for the next year’s round of books for the young’uns?” the innkeeper asked as he waddled past, doing whatever it is that innkeepers do.

“Yes, Tom. Another year,” she answered back kindly.

“You’ve got one less in the nest now, though, don’t you?”

Ed noticed her lips tighten a bit and recalled all the times the name Percy was mentioned.

“Yes, one less. They grow up a little faster than I’d like.”

“That they do, that they do,” the man answered back, waving them deeper into the inn.

Mrs. Weasley guided Edward towards the back of the establishment. When they exited out the back door, Ed was expecting to see a street full of shops and people based on the noise, but it was only a brick wall. Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand and, after a little muttering, lightly tapped one of the bricks. Ed realized he was starting to lose his ability to be shocked when he barely batted an eye as the bricks wriggled away to reveal the cobblestone street he originally expected.

“Why make it so complicated?” he asked, curious.

“That’s so muggles can’t wander in, dear. Gringotts first?”

Ed shrugged, not knowing what that was. He was pretty sure he had heard it before, but he had learned so much about the wizarding world in the past month that he couldn’t remember what it was.

He remembered when he saw it.

Gringotts was the bank that had been broken into Harry’s first year. He’s glad he remembered Harry’s story from late nights on Privet Drive, because he’s sure he would have freaked out at the goblins if he hadn’t. Those things were _ugly._ Mrs. Weasley walked up to the nearest open teller, and Edward meekly followed, not liking the way that all the goblins were staring at him. Their beady eyes creeped him out. As if them being bankers wasn’t scary enough.

“Hello. I need to visit a few vaults today, and exchange some mug-,” Mrs. Weasley started, but the goblin, Rognuff, interrupted her without even looking up from what was on his desk.

“Vault key and signed permission from the vault owner.”

Mrs. Weasley handed over three little keys and three envelopes, and the goblin finally looked up. His eyes narrowed when he saw Ed, and despite himself, Ed took a step back. These guys _really_ rubbed him the wrong way.  Rognuff finally broke eye contact to look over the items he was given, but Ed could still feel the gazes of half the goblins in the room. He was starting to feel on edge.

“Will Mr. Flamel be visiting his vault today?” the goblin asked, and Mrs. Weasley did a double-take.

“Wait, Flamel?” the witch followed the goblin’s line of sight to see him addressing not her, but Ed.

He facepalmed.

He totally forgot that his dad went by Nicholas Flamel in England.

“Yeah, sounds good. Let’s see what the old man left me.”

With a nod, Rognuff left his desk, gesturing for the two to follow. He led them into one of the small offices that lined the wall and left them there with brief instructions to wait.

“Edward, what does he mean, Flamel? Like Nicholas Flamel?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

Ed squirmed under her gaze. She was definitely a mother. “Well, my dad went by Flamel when he was in England a few years ago,” he explained, hoping she wouldn’t ask more.

“Is that because of alchemy? Is Flamel an alchemy name?”

Ed jumped at the reason. “Yeah, it’s an alchemy thing. We’re a tightknit group, ya know? Since we usually don’t leave the country, we try to stick together. Maybe that’s why people think Nicholas Flamel was super old. Everybody used the same name.”

Mrs. Weasley was silent after that, likely pondering the possibility, but Rognuff returned, bearing a small sack that he offered to Mrs. Weasley.

“The exchanged currency.”

“Thank you.”

“Your hand.”

Ed hesitantly offered his right hand to the goblin holding out his own to him and was instantly regretful when he swiped the blade of a long, ornate dagger across his index finger faster than a snake striking.

“Ow!”

Rognuff ignored the blonde to inspect the now softly glowing blade. The sharp Goblin steel had a golden light about it that was reflected in the gold of the hilt. With a signature curt nod, the goblin tucked the dagger away into its ornate box.

Sucking on his finger to stop the bleeding, Ed scowled. His right hand was still a little bit more sensitive than his left, and probably would be for the rest of his life. Reattached nerves tended to be sensitive. Couldn't the bugger have nicked his left hand?

“Follow me please.”

The two followed silently, both afraid to utter a peep in case the goblins decided to do something worse than check a blood seal.

“Griphook will take you to your vaults.”

Ed recognized the name but decided not to say anything. He didn’t want to find out that showing familiarity with a Gringotts goblin was an insult to them or something. They followed him through a short series of tunnels before they were instructed to climb into a rickety looking cart.

Ed preferred the Knight Bus.

When the nightmare cart finally stopped, Ed glared at the grin on Griphook’s face. The goblin pulled out one of the keys Mrs. Weasley had surrendered earlier, opening the door in the side of the cavern wall. Ed peeked inside the vault to see a small pile of coins in the center of a small room. Mrs. Weasley scooped the pile into another little money bag like the one Rognuff gave her.

“I’ve never seen coins like these. What are they?” Ed asked, inspecting the coins over her shoulder.

“Well, the gold ones are Galleons, the silver are Sickles, and the bronze are Knuts.”

Ed didn’t want to tell her that that wasn’t much help, but Griphook explained the currency as they climbed back into the cart. While they were speeding down again and Ed was trying not to let his breakfast make a comeback, Griphook was shouting exchange rates over the noise of the tracks. By the time they made it to the next vault, Ed had a pretty good grasp on the worth of each coin compared to cenz.

The next vault was full of gold coins, with piles of silver and mountains of bronze. Ed’s eyebrows rose. Whose vault was this? Molly answered his unspoken question when she started labelling the money bags she had with a spell.

_‘Harry’s loaded.’_

The next vault was even deeper, and Ed was starting to feel the chill. This vault was the Hogwarts vault, and Dumbledore had instructed Molly to take out a reasonable amount to finance Ed’s classroom supplies. Ed had no clue what wizards charged for the basic elements, or even for pencils and paper, but he assumed that the sack of gold Mrs. Weasley handed him was far more than he would need for class. He knew he wouldn’t find a decent textbook for his students if the wizarding world thought that alchemy was all about the stone.

“Now to the young Hohenheim’s vault.”

Ed wasn’t allowed his double-take at Griphook’s words because the cart started moving again and he didn’t want to get whiplash. The cart was moving faster and faster as it sped deeper and deeper into the earth. Mrs. Weasley had never been down this far before. Various different paths branched away on occasion, and Ed could have sworn he saw a burst of flames down one, but they continued straight down.

When they finally stopped and Ed deemed it safe to open his mouth without his stomach jumping out of it, he rounded on Griphook, demanding, “How the hell did you know that name? My father vent by Flamel on this continent.”

Ed was very unsatisfied with the smirk he received as an answer, but no amount of wheedling seemed to get him anywhere. Irritated, he turned to see the vault, but was surprised to see nothing but stone wall all along the path.

“Where’s the door? Isn’t this my vault?”

Griphook ignored his questions again to pull out the dagger that Rognuff had sliced Ed’s finger with. The blade was still glimmering, giving off a faint light. The goblin calmly waddled up to the wall of rock and stabbed the blade into a paper-thin crack in the stone. Cracks in the rock wall began glowing, spreading out from the blade, until the vague shape of a door was outlined in ancient goblin magic. Griphook turned the handle of the dagger like a key, and the group could hear the faint clang of latches unhinging for the first time in years. With a hiss, the stone wall creaked open, revealing the vault behind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I just looked and what the flagnard? Over 170 kudos??? 
> 
> Thank you guys so much! Y'all mean a lot to me!!


	13. I Am the Son of Midas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone still reading this! You guys are the reason I enjoy writing!

“Edward…”

Ed didn’t blame Mrs. Weasley for being speechless. He’s pretty sure about four of the Hogwarts vaults wouldn’t quite equal his father’s… his vault.

 _‘And I thought Harry was loaded. I could buy Central Headquarters and everyone in it with this.’_ Ed thought, estimating the amount in the vault and converting it to cenz.

“Master Hohenheim was Gringotts’ first investor and patron in 1474. He was a personal friend of our founder, Gringotts,” Griphook explained, “He didn’t start going by Flamel until the early 1500s when he helped foster relations between the wizards and goblinfolk after the last war.”

“I guess the interest just piled up, huh?” Ed mumbled, looking around. He meandered through the mountain range of coins, letting Mrs. Weasley and Griphook to their own devices. When he reached the far wall, he was surprised to find a staircase. Curious, he followed it, trudging up the sloping stone steps. The staircase led to another room. This room was full of something far more valuable to Ed than gold.

It was full of books.

Floor to ceiling shelves held all kinds of books, from ancient tomes to more recent works like a World War II Encyclopedia. In the middle of the room were tables and much smaller shelves that held trinkets and artifacts. He gazed at them all, intrigued. There was a goblet from the middle ages, there a jade urn that looked Xingese in origin, and there a gold signet ring.

Gingerly, Ed lifted the ring. At first, he thought it was the Flamel, but he realized that the cross was not a cross but the outline of a bird. The tail of the bird was long and trailing, and the multiple wings of the bird were stretched out to resemble to outline of the cross. In place of the wings above the snake, the ring had small lightning bolts, and the snake could be seen held in the bird’s beak. The crown at the top of the symbol was still there.

Ed couldn’t explain it, but he felt like this symbol was the original, and the Flamel was a cheap imitation. Looking around, he could see the bird Flamel on several books, even the rug under his feet had the bird image. If he had to give an educated guess, he’d say that this bird was a thunderbird. He continued looking around, entranced, when he noticed a door in one wall. Curious, he pulled the glass prophecy from his pocket.

“ _Hey, Zena, just how far does this vault go_?”

“ _If I remember correctly, there were five rooms_.”

“Anything I could help you with?”

The sudden, loud voice behind him made Ed jump nearly a meter in the air, having been preoccupied when the goblin had slipped up the stairs.

“Don’t _do_ that.”

“My apologies.”

Ed rolled his eyes. He trusted that apology about as far as he could throw Armstrong.

Olivier, not Alex. Alex, he had knocked through a few walls during their sparring.

“What’s in the other three rooms?” he asked, pocketing the ring and the orb, but keeping his hand wrapped around it so he could still hear Zena.

“ _I believe your father kept a few creature comforts that the head goblin keeps updated_.”

Griphook paused a moment before speaking, “I have never seen them myself, but I’m told they hold simple living quarters: a bedroom, bathroom, and kitchenette.”

The two shared an equally curious look before Ed pulled open the next door.

It was a living space all right, but it wasn’t simple. Ed didn’t want to think about what could fit in the two-ton, shiny refrigerator, the bathtub could house Atlantis, and the bed was large enough to need two zip codes all to itself.

“I was told that the honorable Hohenheim would stay down here for weeks on end, so Gringotts furnished him with living quarters. I was not expecting modern muggle appliances like a Keurig.”

“The bastard always did like his coffee.”

When the two made it back to the door, they found poor Mrs. Weasley awkwardly yet patiently waiting by the entrance.

“Sorry, Mrs. Weasley. I didn’t mean to take so long,” Ed apologized, taking a few kilos of Galleons on his way and throwing them in his bag, then going back for more, his mind scheming.

“It’s quite alright, dear,” the angel of a woman said, “If you ever need to come back, I’m sure we could arrange it.”

Ed nodded, following her out of the vault. To his surprise, when the vault doors closed, they were no longer the camouflaged grey stone they were before. Now, they were beautifully carved bronze and silver, the flickering light of Griphook’s torch throwing the edges of the carvings into sharp shadow. Griphook pulled the key from the lock, handing it to Ed, who quickly recognized the blood red ruby on the key as belonging to the hilt of the dagger from the start of their visit.

“Does this mean I don’t have to get stabbed every time I visit the vault?” Ed asked, checking to see that the bandage Mrs. Weasley had conjured was still wrapped neatly around his finger.

“The vault was blood sealed,” the goblin explained over the roar of the cart as they were whisked back to civilization, “Master Flamel sealed it a decade ago. As long as you do not seal it as well, all you need is your key.”

When they reached the front lobby again, Ed exchanged some of his wizard money for British pounds, not wanting to have to resort to counterfeiting again when he had other, more legal, options. He was happy to note that his estimated exchange rate months ago was actually pretty close. Mrs. Weasley said she was heading outside, needing some air after the mine shafts, so Ed set up a quick transfer.

“As many Galleons as you can fit in their vault. There’s no point in it just sitting there and gathering dust. Oh, and this can all go back in the Hogwarts vault too. I don’t need it.”

Rognuff merely grinned behind his desk as he made the exchange, sending the order for the transfer of funds from the Hohenheim vault to the Weasleys’.

Satisfied, with pockets heavy with wizard and British money, Ed met Mrs. Weasley outside, squinting against the sun after his time in the bank.

“Ready to go shopping now, dear?”

“Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks at kudos count*
> 
> *blinks*
> 
> *looks again*
> 
> 200?!?! OMGoodness! Y'all are amazing! Over 1700 hits?? What is this??? *panics because popularity* GGAAAHHJESHASH!! I'm so happy! Thanks, guys! If I get 1 kudos for every 5 hits, I'll start posting 2 chapters per week! Make sure to hit that kudos button!


	14. I Get a Magic Stick. Oh Joy.

Mrs. Weasley decided to start their shopping at Ollivander’s to get Ed’s wand, but Ed still wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole thing. After reading through the books in the Black library on magical theory, he understood mostly how it worked in relation to the Law of Equivalent Exchange, but compared to the magic he had seen in Ishval, the magic here was far more advanced. He wasn’t too keen on carrying the equivalent of a bomb in his pocket all day.

The little shop she led him to definitely gave credit to the sign “Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.” The place looked ready to crumble it was so old and dingy. The inside was much better. The place reminded him of a library and set him at ease. He could feel the thrum of energy coming from hundreds of wands lining the dusty shelves, and the energy sung through the air, but it wasn’t chaotic like alchemical energy. It was a quiet hum under his skin, in the back of his mind, like a word on the tip of your tongue. While alchemic energy was a raging rapid, the magic flowing around him now was a slow, quiet river, calmly plodding along.

If it weren’t for the owner of the shop popping up from behind the counter and scaring the living daylights out of him, he could have gotten lost in the feeling.

As it was, he was breathing heavily, adrenaline coursing through his veins, because the owner had a flair for the dramatic.

“Ah! 10 ½ inches, beech, Dragon heartstring. I trust you’ve taken good care of it?” the mystery man asked.

Ed had no clue what he was talking about, but Mrs. Weasley obviously did.

“Yes, I have. It has served me well,” she answered.

Ed tried not to stare, but this guy was nuts. He really needed to get a brush, because his wispy white hair looked like a rat’s nest, and his eyes looked ready to pop out of his head behind his spectacles when they landed on Ed.

“My my, I haven’t had an alchemist in my shop in over half a century.”

“How…?”

Ed was very confused. How on earth did he know just from looking at him?!

“You wear the Flamel.”

Right. He really ought to change that soon.

“Well, Mr. Ollivander, we’re here for a wand for Edward. Ed dear, step on up. He’ll get you sorted. I’m going to pop over to Magical Menagerie to get treats for Errol and Pig, alright?”

Ed nodded, watching her set off with purpose. When he turned back around, he started at Ollivander’s nose suddenly centimeters from his.

“You’re an interesting one. Never had a wand? Not really sure where to start with you, so let’s start at the beginning. Which arm is your wand arm?”

Ed blinked, then raised his right hand. “This one? I can write with both hands, though.”

“Ambidextrous,” the wizard mumbled as he darted back to the shelves, pulling boxes from them seemingly at random, “Haven’t had one of those in a while either.”

Ed was startled by movement next to his hand, and he glanced down to see a tape measure measuring his hand on its own! He gave a noise of surprise and tried to swat it away, but the persistent little bugger kept coming back. When Ollivander came back, a stack of boxes in hand, the tape was measuring the space between his ears.

“That’s enough, shoo,” he said, waving the tape away, “Now, try this one first.”

He held out a long, thin box with an ornately carved stick inside. Gingerly, Ed picked it up. He could feel the energy of the wand roiling under his hand, and he got the distinct impression that the stick in his hand very much did not like him.

“Elm, 11 ½ inches, dragon heartstring, pliable. Give it a wave.”

Ed shook his head, dropping the wand back in its box. “I don’t like that one, and I don’t think it likes me.”

Ollivander gave him a strange look but closed up the box anyway.

“Yew, 12 inches, unicorn tail hair, bendy.”

This wand was not as rude as the last, but it still left a strange tingle in his hand.

“Not this one, either.”

On and on it went, holding wands and turning them down without so much as a flick. Mrs. Weasley came back at some point to see the mountain of discarded wands and quickly set out to do more shopping while Ed was occupied. They went through dozens upon dozens of wands; Ed had lost count. Despite the struggle, Ollivander seemed to get more and more excited. It was like a tricky customer made him happy for some reason.

Suddenly, Ed stopped. The wand in his hand was Redwood, which was apparently really unusual, with a Phoenix tail feather, 12 ½ inches long. The hum in the wood was significantly less resistant to him, so he decided to give it a wave.

The wand tingled in his hand, and the vase in the corner exploded.

“Nope! Not it!” Ed said, his voice strained, gingerly setting it back in the box.

Ollivander was giving him that calculating look, making Ed squirm. He really didn’t like when people were contemplating him while in his presence. It made him feel awkward.

“Let me try something.”

Ed rolled his eyes as he watched Ollivander scurry into the back, returning with another collection of boxes. It’s not like the man hadn’t been trying things for the last hour.

“You were comfortable enough with that one to give it a wave, so let’s try a few more.”

Redwood, dragon heartstrings, 11 inches, no.

Redwood, unicorn hair, 11 ½ inches, no.

Ebony, Phoenix tail feather, 12 inches, no.

Cherry, Phoenix tail feather, 12 inches, no.

Dogwood, Phoenix tail feather, 13 inches, nope definitely not.

The last box he had brought out was a wand made in America, wherever that was, and had a Thunderbird feather core in a Redwood casing, 13 ½ inches, unyielding.

As soon as he touched it, he knew this was the one.

The energies in the wands so far had been in the wand and only in the wand. The life force in this wand danced up his arm, sung through his veins, and tickled the hairs on the back of his neck. He felt _alive_ from head to toe. With the dramatic flair he was known for, he raised it high, then brought it swishing down in a wide arc. To his surprise, blue lightning akin to alchemic energy flew from the tip, crackling through the air.

Ed laughed. He couldn’t help it.

“How ironic. A thunderbird core.”

Ollivander leveled his most serious look at him.

“This is a very powerful wand, boy. It is not a toy. Do not take it lightly. If you take care of it, it will take care of you.”

Ed nodded, paid for his wand, pocketed it, and headed out to find Mrs. Weasley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I actually did a lot of research on his wand. I hope you can appreciate the fine art of wandmaking as I do.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone that has read my stuff knows I don't update regularly at all, so don't expect anything much. I'll try to update at least once a month.


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